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MOUNT VERNON. 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



HARVEY RICE. 



SECOND EDITION 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

443 & 445 BROADWAY. 
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. 

1865. * 






(*U 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 

HARVEY RICE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Northern District of Ohio. 



V 



ut( 



JC 



CONTENTS 



FAOl 

MOUNT VERNON 9 

Footsteps 19 

The Stream of Time 21 

The Moral Hero 23 

Haunts of Childhood 26 

Who is She? 32 

The Voyager •• 35 

The Realm of Thought '•'. 37 

Vernal Whispers * 39 

The Birth of Beauty 41 

The Far West 43 

The Spring Flower ~ 47 

Give us Light 4 < 

Warren's Appeal 51 



IV CONTENTS. 

PAQB 

THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 55 

The Yain Eequest 64 

The Battle of Lake Erie .66 

Her Last Adieu 68 

The Aged Beggar. „ . . . 70 

Laura 72 

Trusting to Nature 75 

Cuba 77 

Summer 79 

The Music of the Rfiu 81 

Hereafter 83 

ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS 87 

The Queen of Night 98 

s A Conceit 100 

The Old Church 102 

Monticello 105 

The Last Day of the Year 107 

Floating Along 10S 

More Space Ill 

To a Poetess 112 

Tacit Language 116 

The Visionary 117 

The Rainbow 119 

THE LAND OF FREEDOM 123 

AParticular Star ... 144 

Innocence , . . 146 



CONTENTS. 



PAQB 



The Bachelor's Soliloquy 148 

Sympathies 150 

The Lore of Earth 152 

Man 155 

Unwritten Music 157 

His Last Letter , 159 

Human Hearts 161 

Departed 165 

The Classic Land 167 

The Celestial Visitant 169 

The Mystic Chart 171 

Eecognition 174 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 177 

Song of the Tempest 185 

Morning , 187 

Ever Yain 189 

Song of the Dime 190 

Shadows 193 

"Wild Flowers 196 

Classic Halls 198 

Song of the Shell 200 

Long Ago 202 

The Autumn Leaf 204 

Inscrutable 206 

The Zephyr 207 

Aspiration 209 

Why Despair? 210 



VI CONTENTS. 

pi.cn 
Career of the Cloud 212 

Heaven on Earth .* 214 

The Life of Life 215 

NOTES 219 



MOUNT VERNON. 



MOUNT VERNON. 

On yonder swelling height, 
With ivied oaks and cedars crowned, 
Where Freedom's banner floats in light, 
And every whispering sound 
Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground! 1 

Pilgrim! ascend the steep, 
And there, with true and feeling heart, 
On Vernon's brow deep silence keep; 
Ay, let the tear-drop start, 
While proud, yet hallowed thoughts a balm impart ! 

Nature hath marked the spot, 
Where sleeps the great, the good, the wise, 
Entombed — yet ne'er to be forgot — 

Ah, there the Hero lies! 

The man of mighty deeds and high emprise. 

( 9 ) 



10 MOUNT VERNON. 

A calm hill-side retreat, 
Soft mirrored in Potomac's tide; 
The spot he chose, at Vernon's seat, 
'Mid wild-flowers, scattered wide, 
And pleasant groves that wave in native pride. 

Though but a lowly shrine, 2 
There grateful hearts delight to pay 
Homage to Freedom's son divine ; 

The mightiest in the fray, 
The mightiest in his country's darkest day ! 

True worth like his, disdains 
The marble's proud emblazoned chart, 
And trusts to lore which still remains 

Engraved upon the heart, 
When crumbling fall the monuments of Art. 

But turn where stands the hall, 3 
In which the Chieftain dwelt of yore, 
And view, still gleaming on the wall, 
The armor which he wore, 
With belt and plume, and sabre stained with gore ! 



MOUNT VERNON. 11 

And with the memories dim 
Which gather round that sacred hearth, 
Recall the lessons taught by him, 

Who god-like trod the earth, 
And blessed her sons, and gave a Nation birth. 

The Patriot calm, yet bold, 
Whose glorious deeds will ever shed 
Renown upon those days of old, 

When he to battle led 
The stern and true, who bravely fought and bled. 

'Twas then, in councils grave, 
That statesmen, noblest of the Land, 
Their solemn pledge to Freedom gave, 

And boldly took their stand 
[n her defense, united, heart and hand ! 

And still, unmoved by fear, 
Shall Freedom's sons maintain the right; 
Nor marvel, though the rolling year 

Disclose to man new light 
To cheer his faith, and give him moral might. 



12 MOUNT VERNON. 

How oft with placid eye, 
Has he, whose spirit awes us still, 
Stood where we stand, and viewed the sky, 

The river, vale and hill, 
And heard the forest-bird its anthem trill. 

And down the vale that sweeps 
In graceful curves to ocean's tide, 
How calm the bridal landscape sleeps, 
While zephyrs playful glide, 
Fanning the flowers that blush in sinless pride ! 



And see in distance rise 



Like sentinels to guard the scene, 
Mountains half lost in magic skies, 
With pleasant vales between, 
Where beauty cradled wears a smile serene. 

In all her wide domain, 
Say, where has Nature lavished more 
To please the eye, the heart to gain, 

Or bid the fancy soar, 
Than here upon Potomac's peaceful shore? 



MOUNT VERNON. 13 

'Twas here, retired, lie sought 
A tranquil life to love endeared ; 
He who the stern resolve had wrought, 

In days of gloom uncheered, 
To strike for Human Rights, though traitors sneered ! 

When erst the Hero drew 
His battle-blade amid the wild, 
Braddock, to English feeling true, 
Spurned him as but a child, 
Yet rashly fell with many a victim piled. 

Nor dreamed the world as yet, 
That glittering on a stripling's breast 
The "star of empire" had been set; 

Nor yet had dreamed the oppressed, 
How soon that rising star would cheer the West. 

When Freedom's spirit woke, 
And blood at Lexington had flowed, 
Brave men flung off at once the yoke, 
Allegiance long bestowed, 
And flew to arms with zeal that fervent glowed. 



14 MOUNT VERNON. 

From mountain, hill, and glen, 
Like torrents rushed the sons of toil ; 
Indignant, yet high-minded men, 

Defenders of the soil, 
Whose sturdy blows the oppressor eould not foil. 

Proud Mistress of the Sea ! 
They taught thy pride a lesson wise, 
Who o'erboard cast rich freights of tea 
Before thy wondering eyes, 
And dared thy royal stamp and tax despise. 

Though darker grew the day, 
"A day that tried," as if by fire, 
" Men's souls," yet heroes led the way, 

Fearless of Britain's ire, 
With solemn vow to triumph — or expire ! 

Musing, methinks I hear 
The Chieftain's voice, the foeman's tread, 
And shout of men who knew not fear, 

Onward to victory led, 
Our brave old sires, with Freedom's banner spread. 



MOUNT VERNON. 15 

Beneath a wintry sky, 
At Trenton, in that glorious fight, 
O list the bold triumphant cry 

Of Liberty and Eight, 
Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight ! 4 

'Mid subtle foes combined, 
How firm was he, that gallant one, 
Ordained of Heaven to bless mankind, 

Columbia's noblest son, 
The pride of earth, the immortal Washington ! 

Sternly he led the van, 
The Champion of his country's cause, 
Sworn to defend the rights of man, 
His country and her laws, 
Against a sway that half the world o'erawes. 

' Twas he — and he alone — 
Whose skill could guide the banded few, 
The few who shook a monarch's throne, 

Patriots, sore tried, but true ; 
Those iron men, whose faith still stronger grew. 



16 MOUNT VERNON. 

And well they earned their fame, 
Who fixed on Freedom's star their gaze, 
And fought and bled in Freedom's name, 

And, 'mid the battle's blaze, 
Bore off the palm in those heroic days. — 

CornwaUis ! still thy shade 
Bewails, methinks, the fated hour 
That saw thee yield thy valiant blade 
A prize to sterner power, 
With spirit bowed, till then, untaught to cower 

Nor sought he self-renown, 
Who scourged the foe and held the sway ; 
But now, from proffered kingly crown, 

With scorn he turned away, 5 
And moral virtue hailed her proudest day. 

Yet his were honors high — 
The highest which the world bestows ; 
And calm, within a peaceful sky, 
His star resplendent rose, 
Life's crowning star, triumphant in repose. 



MOUNT VERNON. 17 

With soul that ne'er repined, 
He wrought his task ; and ever true, 
Now bade, with admonitions kind, 

To power and place adieu, 
And, like the Roman, to the plow withdrew ! 

How vain the lofty tower, 6 
Though reared to heaven by giant hand, 
To speak his praise, whose matchless power 

Redeemed his native land, 
And won him fame that will through time expand ! 

On Vernon's rugged side, 
Where eagles stoop to build the nest, 
There let the Hero, with his bride, 

In hallowed slumber rest ; 
His fittest monument the mountain's crest. 

And there as they advance, 
Let Ages, yet unborn of time , 
Warriors who strike with Freedom's lance, 

And men of every clime , 
Revere his dust, and laud his deeds sublime. 



18 MOUNT VERNON. 

O, may the Land that's free 
Ne'er fall a prey to faction's blight ; 
But, with her glorious History, 

Still blend a holier light, 
To cheer her sons, and guide them in the right 

Go fling upon the air, 
With bolder hand, her banner's flame ; 
And still preserve with jealous care 

Her honor and her fame, 
Nor fear to lead the way with heaven-born aim. 

Wide as the world is wide, 
Shall Freedom's blessings yet extend ; 
And man, whate'er his clime, confide 

In man, as friend in friend, 
And pride of power her errors wisely mend ! 



FOOTSTEPS. 

I hear upon the chamber stair 

Her footsteps light, 
Falling, like music on the air, 

At morn and night. 

And oft upon the parlor floor 
Ingrained with flowers, 

I hear the step I've heard before, 
In happier hours. 

And in the chair that's vacant now, 

Oft. think I see 
The sainted one with radiant brow, 

Who visits me. 



(19) 



20 FOOTSTEPS. 

Yet when I rise, and turn to greet 

That angel fair, 
She disappears, with smile that's sweet, 

Upon the air ! 

And yet her footsteps oft I hear 

At morn and eve ; 
And in her whispers seeming near, 

I still believe. 

Nor yield the faith I've cherished long, 

Heartfelt and true ; 
But with a hope that still grows strong, 

My faith renew. 

In woman's smile, in woman's tear, 
And heart when given, 

Star-like, there glows a love sincere, 
That's born of heaven ! 



THE STREAM OF TIME. 

It rolls in grandeur lone, 

The Stream of Time ; 
And on its shores lie strown 

The wrecks of every clime. 

Fragments of ancient Art, 

Temples and towers ; 
And tombs that still impart 

Lessons of life's brief hours. 

Yes, empires proud and vast, 

That rose unchecked, 
The mightiest of the Past, 

Have on that stream been wrecked. 



(21) 



22 THE STTCEAM OP TIME. 

And there at unknown date, 
Have perished names, 

Renowned of old and great, 

Plumed lords and jeweled dames. 

And cast, like worthless weeds, 

Upon the wave, 
There cherished hopes and creeds 

Have found a nameless grave ! 

Yet onward and sublime, 

Will ever glide 
The silent Stream of Time, 

That bears us on its tide ! 

And we, in turn, shall leave 
Sad wrecks behind — 

The wonders we achieve, 
All, save immortal mind! 



THE MORAL HERO. 

With heart that trusteth still, 

Set high your mark ; 
And, though with human ill, 

The warfare may be dark, 
Resolve to conquer — and you will! 

Resolve, then onward press, 

Fearless and true ; 
Believe it — Heaven will bless 

The brave — and still renew 
Your hope and courage in distress! 

Press on, nor stay to ask 

For friendship's aid ; 
Deign not to wear a mask, 

Nor wield a coward's blade, 
But still persist, though hard the task. 



(23) 



24 THE MORAL HERO. 

Rest not — inglorious rest 

Unnerves a man; 
Struggle — 'tis God's behest! 

Fill up life's little span 
With God-like deeds — it is the test— 

Test of the high-born soul, 

And lofty aim ; 
The test in History's scroll 

Of every honored name ! 
None but the brave shall win the goal. 

Go act the hero's part, 

And, in the strife, 
Strike with the hero's heart, 

For liberty and life ! — 
Ay, strike for truth ; preserve her chart. 

Her chart, unstained, preserve ; 

'Twill guide you right ; 
Press on, and never swerve, 

But keep your armor bright, 
And struggle still, with firmer nerve. 



THE MOEAL HERO. 25 

Error must fall at last, 

It is ordained; — 
Old creeds are crumbling fast, 

But ere the victory's gained, 
Heroes must strike — the die is cast ! 

What though the tempest rage, 

Buffet the sea! 
Where duty calls, engage ; 

And ever striving be 
The moral Hero of the Age ! 

2 



(26) 



HAUNTS OF CHILDHOOD. 

Though dear to me are Western charms, 
Rivers and lakes with outstretched arms, 

And prairies broad and free ; 
Yet dearer still my Native Land, 
Her mountains, vales, and ocean strand, 
With old tried friends to grasp my hand, 
And welcome me ! 

O, give me back New England's hills, 
Her daisied meads, and crystal rills, 

And mountain air, once more ; 
The land where churches lift their spires, 
And bosoms glow with chastened fires ; 
The land God gave our Pilgrim sires., 
In days of yore ! 



HAUNTS OP CHILDHOOD. 27 

Yet mine 'tis not, undimmed, to find 
The hearth where glowed affections kind, 

'Mid hopes too bright for tears ; 
Those purer joys, which thrilled my breast, 
And gave to life its sweetest zest — 
With her whose lip, maternal, blest 
Mine earliest years ! 

Still unassailed by ruthless hand, 
O, let that dear old mansion stand, 

Though strangers tread its hearth ; 
And spare that elm, unbowed, unbroke, 
Which still survives the lightning's stroke, 
Crowning the hill, where curls the smoke, 
As at my birth ! 

Not far away, 'mid hillocks green, 

The lettered stone, moss-grown, that's seen 

Nodding o'er sacred dust, 
Brings back to me the faded past, 
A mother's love, and kiss — the last — 
With lessons kind, to which, steadfast, 
I cling and trust. 



28 HAUNTS OF CHILDHOOD. 

With lingering step and heart sincere, 
There let nie drop a filial tear — 

In tears still seek relief! 
Like ocean's surge that restless heaves, 
My days roll on, yet memory weaves 
Her twilight o'er the past, and leaves 

A balm for grief! 

Though mine 's a grief no balm can heal, 
I love old memories, and still feel 

Their magic o'er me flung ; — 
But list ; from steepled church, I hear 
The old town clock, deep -toned and clear, 
That knells the hours from year to year, 

With iron tongue ! 

And there, adown the vale, I see 
A noisy group, low roof and tree ; 

The spot to which I hied, 
In summer's heat and winter's snow, 
A satcheled lad, who cared to know 
Little of books, nor much I trow 

That's wise beside ! 



HAUNTS OF CHILDIIOOD. 29 

There glides the brook, whose flowery bank 
Was oft the scene of many a prank, 

And feat attained at school ; 
And, like a spectre, near the hill, 
There stands the same old clicking mill, 
Where many an idle urchin still 
Disturbs the pool ! 

A truant there, beneath the spray, 
How oft I've angled all the day, 

Or gathered pebbles rare ; 
Ay, waded half-way to the chin, 
To build the crib, and drive them in, 
The startled brood, with silver fin, 
Shy of the snare ! 

When woods were tinged with Autumn's hue, 
Oft o'er the hills I've brushed the dew, 

Ere flashed the morning sun, 
In search of treasures shaken down 
By wind and frost — nuts, white and brown ; 
Or sought, in chase of game, renown, 
With mimic gun ! 



30 HATJNTS OF CHILDHOOD. 

Around those haunts I loved so well, 
When but a child, there breathes a spell, 

A spell that charms me yet ; 
The stately elm, 'neath which I played, 
The frowning steep, and wizard glade, 
And more than all, the wild cascade, 
With jewels set 

And yet there is one hallowed shrine, 
Around which holier memories twine, 

Twine with a name that's dear ; 
The name of one that's sainted now, 
The nymph, who heard mine earliest vow, 
With moistened eye and sunny brow, 
And listening ear ! 

But where are now those happy years, 
Too blest to last, which time endears, 

And faithful hearts embalm ? 
Those years, the mirthful, and the free, 
Alas ! are lost for aye to me — 
Lost in the Past, the dark Dead Sea, 
Where all is calm ! 



HAUNTS OF CHILDHOOD. 31 

Yet o'er that sea will ever flow 
Heart-touching whispers, sweet and low 

Ay, sanctified to him 
Who loves the past, yet hails afar 
The seraph, Hope, on golden car. 
Bearing her lamp, a twinkling star. 
Twinkling, though dim 1 



WHO IS SHE? 

O they say she's the Belle of the town ; 
If you doubt it, I'll wage you a crown 

That ere long you will rue it ! 
When you meet her, beware ! for she can, 
If she choose, charm a sensible man, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

With the blush of the rose on her cheek, 
She affects to be modest and meek, 

Ay, I fear you will rue it ; 
With the flash of her dark hazel eye, 
She extorts from the gazer a sigh, 
'T is so pleasant to do it ! 

When she flings to the zephyr the fold 

Of her scarf, with its purple and gold, 

Look aside, or you '11 rue it ! 
(32) 



WHO IS SUE? 33 

Like a seraph just dropped from the skies, 
She attracts by her charms roving eyes, 
'Tis so. pleasant to do it! 

You may meet her whenever you please, 

At the rout — she 's the gem of the squeeze — 

But take care, or you '11 rue it ! 
She'll entangle your heart in her smile, 
And for mischief she'll tease you awhile, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

Though enchanting her wit with its spice, 
Still her heart is as frigid as ice ; 

Ho who weds her, will rue it ! 
So be careful, nor sigh for the bliss, 
Yet you may, if you can, steal a kiss, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 

But there's danger in taking a sip 
From the dew-drop that moistens her lip, 

Who attempts it, will rue it ! 
For in truth she is skilled in her art, 
And she boasts when she breaks a brave heart, 

'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 



34 wno is she? 

She delights to be weaving a snare, 
And to feast on the breath of despair ; 

Who disputes it, will rue it ! 
Let her flirt till as old as her Aunt, 
Then desiring to wed, find she can't, 

'T is so pleasant to do it I 



THE VOYAGER. 

When burst that thrilling cry 
Of " land-ho ! " on the voyager's ear, 
With what delight his searching eye 
Beheld the shadowy mountains lie 

Far in the distance, dim, yet clear ! 

A world before him lay 
In all its beauty and its prime ; 
With fearless step he led the way, 
And knelt on shore, and blessed the day, 

The most eventful of his time. 

Freely that golden Land, 
Which gave a tint to all his dreams, 
Yielded to him, with heart and hand, 
Her empire vast, from strand to strand, 

With all her wealth of hills and streams. 



(35) 



36 TIIE VOYAGER. 

But Nature's children, then, 
Dreamed not of woes which time revealed ; 
They saw but gods in Europe's men, 
And still revered them — even when 

Their fate had been forever sealed! 

And yet that wiser Power, 
Who shapes the destiny of man, 
Had willed a brighter, happier hour, 
To cheer the gloom, which seemed to lower 

In darkness o'er his moral plan. 

And with the years which came, 
There came brave men, whose valor won 
For Freedom's Land a glorious name ; 
And on whose altar burns the flame 

That once inspired a Washington ! 

Intenser let it burn — 
The flame that still inspires the free ; 
Till man the rights of man shall learn, 
And every land become, in turn, 

A glorious land of liberty ! 



THE REALM OF THOUGHT. 

He hails afar, with ardent gaze, 

That castled realm in air ; 
And dreaming still of golden days, 

He sees an angel there ! 

An angel stooping in her flight, 

Who wears a saintly smile ; 
And she is crowned with gems of light, 

And flowers from fairy isle. 

And, with a sceptre in her hand, 
And love that sways her breast, 

She holds the gazer at command, 
And waits to make him blest. 



(37) 



THE REALM OF THOUGHT. 

Around that realm there flames a wall 

No mortal foot has sealed ; 
Nor through its gleaming turrets tall 

Has tempest ever wailed ! 

A place of holy rest it seems — 

A palace built for souls ; 
Great souls that realize their dreams, 

'Mid light that boundless rolls. 

Great souls that here have nobly wrought 
Their task, transferred at last, 

There to partake, where truth is taught, 
An infinite repast! 



VERNAL WHISPERS. 

Born of the blushing Spring, 
Lo, Joy replumes his angel wing ! 
With radiant locks the hours advance, 
And violets wake from winter's trance, 
While Beauty smiles with sunny glance, 

And birds ecstatic sing. 

Against a sky serene, 
The quiet mountains seem to lean ; 
While valleys woo, with pure delight, 
The genial sun and dews of night, 
And Hope, with buds of promise bright, 

Embroiders all the scene. 

The sunshine and the showers 
Restore to earth her bosom flowers — 



(39) 



40 VERNAL WHISPERS. 

The queenly rose that's virgin-lipped, 
The lily that in gold is dipped, 
The honey-bell that's oftenest sipped, 
And thyme that never towers. 

And now, from mantled hill, 
And cradled vale, and gushing rill, 
There breathes a music, sweet and long, 
Which melts the soul, like sacred song, 
And purifies the heart that's wrong-. 

The whisper, small and still ! 

catch, with listening ear, 
The vernal whispers of the year, 
Whose breath, like hope, revives the heart, 
And bids us act a nobler part — 
Nor leave behind a faithless chart, 

When Autumn's leaf is sere ! 



THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. 

By Nature's hand, though all 

Was made complete ; 
Still, in her Palace Hall, 

No twinkling feet, 
Nor graceful figure tall, 

Nor smile that's sweet, 
Had yet obeyed her call ! — 

And so she racked her brain, 

And gathered flowers ; 
White lilies from the plain, 

And from the bowers 
Roses, and from the main 

Cosmetic powers ; 
From birds, their sweetest strain. 



(41) 



42 THE BIRTH OP BEAUTY. 

Combining these, she wrought 

A perfect charm ; 
And gave it grace and thought, 

Brilliant, yet calm ; 
When man the vision caught 

In his strong arm, 
And claimed it — as he ought ! 

And blessed his happy lot, 
Which now made earth 

An Eden — every spot — 
Since Beauty's birth ; 

Whose smile still cheers his cot, 
His home and hearth, 

An angel — is she not ? — 



THE FAR WEST. 

O where, think ye, is now the West ? 

The far, far "West, the land of dreams, 
Whose hills and vales, with virgin breast, 
Still slumber in their ancient rest, 

Lulled by the voice of plaintive streams ! 

From Mexico, where airs are bland, 

To Oregon's impetuous flood, 
Already vale and mountain land 
Resound to that advancing band, 

Who proudly boast of Yankee blood ! 

Nor distant is the day, perchance, 

When yet these sons of valiant sires 
Shall win their way, by love or lance, 
To sunnier climes, and e'en advance 
Beyond the Equator's solar fires. 



(43) 



44 THE FAR WEST. 

Thus race, to race must ever yield, 

And mental power assume the sway ; 
Broad as the earth the ample field, 
For those who trust in virtue's shield, 
And Freedom's banner dare display. 

The far, far West, 'tis Freedom's now, 
The gift of God to earth's oppressed, 
The land where all, who take the vow 
No more to king or priest to bow, 

May come, and find their wrongs redressed. 

Ay, there shall happy millions yet 

Reclaim the soil, and crowd the mart ; 
Freemen, who thrive by toil and sweat, 
Sprinkling the waste with cities, set 
On hill and plain, like gems of Art 

And there shall thought yet fly afar 

Along the wire, from climes remote, 
And blend with thought, like star with star, 
While startling rolls the frantic car, 
And bannered glides the gallant boat. 



THE FAR WEST. 45 

And there, unawed, the mind of man, 

Progressive still, shall still aspire ; 
Nor yield to creeds that fear to scan 
The mystic lore of Nature's plan, 

But still, insatiate, aim the higher ! 

In sooth, it needs no prophet's eye, 

Westward to Ocean's calmer surge, 
To see the future there outvie 
The ancient world, whose glories lie 

Pillared on Time's receding verge 

O what, when centuries have rolled, 
Will be this mighty Western Land ? 

Her sons — will they be brave and bold. 

And still defend her banner's fold ? 
Her holy altars — will they stand ? 

The link that binds the Sisterhood, 
Say, will it brighten and grow strong, 

And men bear rule, the great and good, 

Who shun dissension, strife and blood, 
Yet cleave to right, nor yield to wrong ? 



46 THE FAR WEST. 

Fear not ! with holier influence yet, 

The years shall come which God ordains ; 
When Freedom's bounds shall not be set, 
Nor man his fellow man forget, 
In blind pursuit of sordid gains ! 



THE SPRING FLOWER, 

When the winter departs, 
how pleasant a thing, 

'Tis to greet the first flower 
That appears in the spring! 

Like a vision of light, 
Lo, it comes but to cheer 

Winter's last lingering step, 
With a smile that is dear f 

And with joy, from the cup 

Of the silvery dew, 
It imbibes nectared sweets, 

Ever pure, fresh and new; 



(47) 



48 TIIE SmiNG FLOWER. 

Timely food sent to earth 
From a fount in the sky, 

In response to the prayer 
Of a calm, tearful eye ! 

Thus, the flower looks aloft 
To the stars of the night, 

With a faith that is pure, 

And a brow crowned with light. 

Though its life be a dream. 

And its days but a few; 
Yet like saint, it has hope, 

With a love breathed for you! 

ye proud of the earth, 

From the flower meekly learn, 

How to live — how to die — 
And be blessed in return! 



GIVE US LIGHT. 

At, give us light, more light to cheer 

Our footsteps onward still ; 
Welcome the star, whose bright career 

Doth fling o'er vale and hill 
Light — more Light ! 

Methinks I hear the toiling mass, 

Who sweat to pamper pride, 
Whisper with murmuring lips, "Alas ! 

And why are we denied 
Light — more Light?" 

list! how like the startling wave 

That breaks on ocean's shore, 
The voice that wakes the mental slave, 

Who hardly dares implore 

Light — more Light ! 
3 (40) 



50 GIVE US LIGHT. 

True men are they, with lips unsealed, 

Men of unfettered mind, 
Who seek the light, as 'tis revealed, 

In Nature's teachings kind, 
Light — more Light! 

While Truth her glorious banner waves 

From high celestial walls, 
Strong men will rise, e'en from their graves, 

To catch the light that falls !— 
Light — more Light! 



WARREN'S APPEAL. 

[at bunker noL] 

Comrades ! they come, 
The invaders, fierce and strong ; 
Hear ye that trump and drum ? 
They come to do us wrong! 
Shall we to tyrant power succumb? 

No ! — calm and still, 
Await the advancing foe ; 
And then, with iron will, 
Deal death at every blow, 
And wrap in lurid flame the Hill ! 

Forsake it not — 
That standard of the free ! 



(51) 



warren's appeal. 

Nor let dishonor blot 
Its matchless chivalry ; 
Where'er it waves, defend the spot ! 

Our country — wives 
And children — the strong ties 
That bind us, hearts and lives, 
Demand that we despise 
Danger and death, while hope survives ! 

Rather than yield, 
Let us resolve to die 
Upon the battle-field, 
Trusting to God on high, 
Who is our buckler and our shield ! 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

Go trace, O man, thine emanation far 
Beyond the bounds of earth ; the eldest star 
May be thy junior ! Ask, nor dare to scan 
What was, ere uncreated Mind began — 
Yet unbegun — when heaven itself was dark, 
When all was void, and life's ethereal spark 
Remained unstruck ; nor gaze beyond the verge, 
Where thought expires, and silence breathes a dirge ! 

And yet, in search of truth, why not explore 

Divinest realms — the depths of Nature's lore — 

Her prone affinities — her plastic forms — 

Her mystic aim, and vital spark that warms 

Insensate clay to life — and e'en that part 

Which cannot die, the moral sense, the heart ? 

(55) 



56 TUE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

Whate'er our future fate, remote or near, 
Why cherish still a faith that's bora of fear ? 
Or why that crisis view with solemn awe, 
The expiring hour ordained by Nature's law — 
Man's last yet glorious birth to life that's liigher, 
Where love abounds, and pure his soul's desire ? 

And is it not enough for us to know 
That Nature wills our weal, but ne'er our woe ? 
Then why refuse, amid unclouded light, 
To read her lessons, and to choose the right ; 
Or why still ask, beyond this vale of tears, 
If man be blest, or sink the waif of years ? 
Since life, whate'er its form, whate'er its sphere, 
Survives all change, nor stays its bright career. 

This planet, Earth, whereon we strive and die, 
Compared with mightier orbs that gem the sky, 
What is it — but a sunbeam's glittering mote? 
And what, among the spheres, its lowly note ? 
And what are systems, with their central sun, 
But dazzling lights, with which the viewless One 
Illumes His boundless realms, and palace Halls, 
And hallowed Courts that glow with sapphire walls; 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 57 

The final Home, where weary souls shall rest, 
And taste but bliss, and be forever blest !— 

"When earth recedes, and this frail life is o'er, 
Say, will our thoughts survive, and evermore 
Compose what's called the soul ? and yet do these 
Same thoughts originate just as we please ? 
Or can we think thoughts not our own, and think 
No more ? and must we die, and final sink 
For one vile thought, which mental laws procure 
To pass the mind ? of this, what creed is sure ? 
And where are now those thoughts, forgotten all, 
Which once were ours, but which we ne'er recall ? 
Exist they, still combined, or scattered hence ? 
Do they enjoy — or suffer? have they sense?- 
And are we conscious of their present state ? 
If not, what matters it, whate'er their fate ? 
And yet the good man's hopes are sacred ties, 
Which never break, connecting earth and skies. 

Still what is man, with ever-wavering trust, 
What but a breathing miracle of dust — 
A puzzle to himself — o'er which he sighs, 
And questions God, yet thinks himself as wise ! 



58 THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

Aspiring still, at most, what can he know 

Of life not yet revealed, 'mid stars that glow ? 

Though his an Eden once, it soon became 

A scene of tears — and sin acquired a name ; 

But not till crowned with flowers, and at his side 

Angelic woman smiled, and blushed a bride ! 

Though erst to subtle words Eve lent an ear, 
What woman lists not, when there's news to hear ? 
The tempter's arguments, though fraught with guile, 
"Why should she sift, or doubt his winning smile ? 
In nice moralities, through want of skill, 
Why dream of aught that in itself was ill ? 
The child of Nature, artless and sincere, 
Why not still cling to him she held most dear, 
And ever strive, as woman ever should, 
To please her chosen lord, and seek his good ? 

She deemed it fair — that interdicted tree — 
And craved its fruit ; to test its quality, 
She ate — and man was doomed to endless woe ; 
A truth than fiction stranger still, I trow ! 
And since 'twas but an apple — only one — 
That hung matured, and reddened in the sun. 



THE MYSTERY OP LIFE. 59 

Adam partook, nor does it seem absurd ; 
Who now that lives, would doubt an angel's word ? 
Enough, since man was blest, when fatal lore 
Touched woman's heart with sorrow to the core, 
And placed her, in her present sphere, alone, 
To cheer the fallen state with love's sweet tone ! 

Though heirs to grief, we struggle to regain 
The treasures of the sky ; but ah ! the strain 
Winch Hope, the Siren, still pours forth, misleads 
The frantic chase, nor soothes the heart that bleeds \ 
And yet like shadows, aimless, still we flit, 
Perplexed with doubts, nor learn that ills befit. 
On earth, our dark career ! 'Tis sweet to think, 
That we may yet be blest, while link by link, 
In Nature's chain, we climb, and dimly trace 
Our destiny, and seize, as if by grace, 
E'en on celestial joys ; though oft we quake, 
'Mid ghostly fears, and wisdom's path forsake ! 

When Nature counseleth the heart, we hear 
Reproving whispers ; conscience, or a tear, 
Perhaps, betrays us to ourselves ; and then 
The world, its pride, its pomp, its fools, its men, 



60 THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

Pass huddled in review — a painful scene, 
That sickens life ! 'Tis all in vain, I ween, 
To ponder o'er the fate of human kind ; 
All would be happy, yet all will be blind. 

Ah, why do men still seek it as a prize, 
The happiness which dazzles envious eyes ; 
And yet forget the source of moral good, 
The charities of life — least understood? 
Why penetrate the moimtain's rocky side 
For crumbs of gold, or track the ocean wide 
To gather pearls, and, at some future day, 
Expect to bask beneath the sunny ray 
Of earthly bliss ; yet die at last the slaves 
Of folly's reign — and fill forgotten graves ? 

Forbear the human bosom to unmask, 
The passions prompt us, whatsoe'er we ask ; 
And virtue's path, though traced upon a chart, 
We seldom choose, till grief refines the heart. 
Yet Hope links Heaven and earth, and thus, despite 
The human will — unerring Nature's light 
Constrains belief, and teaches that the soul 
Must be immortal ; nor can aught control 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. Gl 

This innate sense. Alas ! who would persuade 
Himself, by dint of lore, or logic's aid, 
That dark annihilation, cheerless creed, 
Engulfs us all at last — then blots the deed ! 

Though man may seem, with his restricted powers, 
The victim still of fortune's freakish hours ; 
Yet rule he may — and overrule — by thought 
Which still expands, till he himself is wrought 
To more than man ! And when, at last, the breath, 
"Which he inhales at birth, departs at death, 
He but attains to life — a soul refined, 
That's merged again in elemental Mind ; 
And yet, though bred beneath a genial sky, 
How few have learned to live, or learned to die ! 

Say, what and where the mystic realms, which teem 
With shadows, pictured in the passing dream 
Of life — the joys and sorrows of the heart — 
When, from the scenes that mock us, we depart, 
And rest with patriarchs, and yield to earth 
The gift she gave — all but our moral worth ? 

Who will, may ever seek, yet never find 
The blest abode which still enchants his mind ; 



62 THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 

And yet, in thought that's pure, in love and truth, 
The just still live — live in immortal youth — 
The heritage which still remains, when all 
That man calls power, has failed to disenthrall 
His spirit of its weight of silvery years, 
Or wipe, from sightless eyes, life's last sad tears ! 

Oft from the darkened past, as from an urn, 
The memories dear of those we loved return, 
And tell of days and years and feeling hearts, 
When friendship knew but truth, and love no arts ; 
When joys were pure, and in life's golden sky 
No darkling cloud arose to blind the eye ; 
When hope, with smiling brow, inspired the hours. 
And earth seemed but a paradise of flowers. 

When we retrace the dark career of man, 
How oft, to fancy's eye, the shadowy van 
Of heroes, sages, seers, and warriors brave, 
Repeople earth, and seem to tread the grave 
Of their own dust, and re-enact the part 
They bore in human strife ; yet leave no chart, 
By which we still may trace, from Asia's plain, 
Their distant march, or learn where fell the slam ! 



THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. G3 

Amid the gloom of years old empires rest, 
And who can say if they were cursed, or blest ? 
The monuments which told, with lettered trust, 
Where slept the great, have crumbled into dust ! 
Perchance the clods, on which we heedless tread, 
Have breathed with life — the ashes of the dead — 
Ashes, which yet shall wake to conscious life, 
And, in the great advancing drama's strife, 
Assume, with new-born joy and purer heart, 
Still higher forms, and play a nobler part ! 
And yet why doubt, or yield to mystic fear ? 
What Nature wills, God wills, a truth that's clear ! 



THE VAIN REQUEST. 

Give me the heart that's pure and warm, 
Whose virtues constant shine ; 

Give me the soul that's nobly great, 
Yet melts in grief with mine. 

Give me the rosy, blusliing cheek, 

The lip without a stain ; 
Give me the meekly pensive eye, 

Whose flash thrills every vein. 

Give me the sweet, respousive smile, 

Love's sympathy refined ; 

Give me an angel's graceful form, 

An angel's sinless mind. 
(64) 



THE VAIN REQUEST. 65 

Ay, give me nature, spirit, fire, 

A gem of brilliant ray, 
In one, who heeds my every wish, 

Though absolute her sway ! 

Give me but woman thus endowed, 

Whose jewels virtues are, 
And I will worship, like a saint, 

So beautiful a star ! 

But ah, how vain, how vain to ask 

A gift so rich and rare, 
Since earthly bliss is but a dream, 

And beauty frail as fair I 



THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE 

Hovering o'er Erie's waters blue, 
War-ships equipped are seen, 

Bearing a bold and hostile crew, 
Led by the Charlotte Queen ; 

With ready guns and courage true, 
On pride of power they lean 1 

With stately pomp and snowy wing, 

And pennons fluttering gay, 
In battle line, they seem to fling 

Defiance on their way ; 
Nor dream of woes an hour may bring 

When comes the fearful fray ! 



(G6) 



Lo ! Periy now that fleet descries, 
And, like a tempest dire, 



THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE. 67 

'Neath stars and stripes, and favoring skies, 

Assails with sheeted fire 
The haughty foe, who dared despise 

The Yankees — and their ire ! 

And now, as maddening volleys rave, 

Though Perry's Flag-ship reels, 
'Neath fire and smoke, with hand to save, 

From ship to ship he steals^ 
And now the fate of Britons brave 

With one broadside he seals ! — 

And now their decks are crimsoned o'er, 

Swept by that iron hail ; 
And as the last gun boomed to shore, 

'Mid shouts and saddening wail, 
Glad news to anxious hearts it bore, 

Afar on every gale ! 

Honor to him, who fought to break 

The grasp of sceptred pride ; 
The Hero, whose brave deeds awake, 

Within the heart's glad tide, 
Proud memories, now with Erie's Lake, 

And Perry's name allied ! 



HER LAST ADIEU. 

Adieu to him, who loved me not, 

Whose vow was insincere ; 
The past — oh, let it be forgot — 

With all on earth that's dear 

The Silent Land — it is my home — 
And there I soon shall rest, 

Where sorrows never, never come, 
With sighs to heave the breast 

Adieu to earth ! when I am laid 

Within the narrow cell, 
Let words and funeral pomp be stayed, 

Nor toll the funeral bell ! 



(68) 



HER LAST ADIEU. 69 

Enough — if but a friend be nigh, 

To fling upon my bier 
A rose that's tinted with the sky, 

Or shed for me a tear ! 

Speak not of cherished love untold, 

In death, a deathless flame ; 
Nor let the marble, pale and cold, 

Record my humble name. 

Yet think of me, whene'er you dream 

In holy twilight hours ; 
Or mark the star whose pensive beam 

Still cheers the meek-eyed flowers ' 



THE AGED BEGGAR 

I saw him, with locks of gray, 

And trembling limb, 
Still groping his weary way ; 

His eye was dim. 

He thought of his home afar, 

And skyward gazed, 
And clearly saw a bright star 

That o'er him blazed. 

And gazing, as through a cloud, 

In silent prayer, 
He said, as he passed the crowd, 

" I'm almost there ! " 



(70) 



THE AGED BEGGAR. 71 

Still wandering, lies asked for bread, 

Yet did not dare 
Expect it — and reverent said, 

" I'm almost there !" — 

But the crowd cared not for him, 

Nor lent an ear ; 
And the Beggar died forgot, 

Nor fell a tear ! 

How few of the world's great mass 

A thought have given 
To the lone and tried, who pass 

From earth to heaven ! 



LAURA. 

The moment his leave he had taken, 

She flew from the parlor in haste, 
With her nerves, like an aspen, quite shaken, 

Yet the secret was much to her taste. 
" Oh, what is the matter, my dear," 

Cried the mother, all pale with affright, 
And Laura began to look queer — 

And to stammer, while blushing outright! 

" Frank asked me — I did not expect it — 
The question ! — I thought I should faint ! 

Such an offer — oh can I reject it? — 
'Tis enough to discourage a saint! 

How shall I determine his case? 

'Tis true, that I love him too well; 
(72) 



LAURA. 73 

But they say I 've a beautiful face ; 
You know I 'ui considered a belle I 

" Besides, there are forty or more 

With whom it is pleasant to flirt; 
And they all still profess to adore — 

Would kiss e'en the hem of my skirt ! 
I 'm alarmed at the hazard I run, 

So distracted, I hardly can speak; 
I '11 tell him I thought him in fun, 

When he calls for his answer next week ! 

" But I 'm fearful that never will do — 

His manner was frank and sincere; 
An answer that's candid is due, 

And yet it will cost me a tear ! 
Let me think — ah, I think I '11 say No — 

With Harry I love to play chess; 
Yet my hand were I now to bestow, 

A fopling it never should bless ! 

" As to Frank, I will treat him the same, 
And perhaps I will wed him at last; 

4 



74 LAURA. 

But when I consider how tame 

Are the married, I 'm stricken aghast ! 

And conclude, in the girlhood of life, 
That I'll still be a butterfly gay; 

"When I choose, I will then be a wife, 
Yet I might marry dozens to-day!" 

And thus, with a toss of her head, 

She made up her mind in a hurry; 
Frank called — and began to look red — 

Yet Laura, although in a flurry, 
Received him, of course, with a smile ; 

Then talked of the last evening's rout ; 
But Frank, after listening awhile, 

Resolved to remove the last doubt ! 

But still she persisted in talking 

Of the rout, and the fashions, and dance ; 
While Frank, as he rose to be walking, 

Still lingered, half lost in a trance ; 
When, wreathing her lip to say JNfo — 

Somehow, with a charming address, 
She softened the word in its flow, 

And, lisping, replied to him — "Yesl" 



TRUSTING TO NATURE. 

Alone, at hush of night, 

Go forth, and in the light 
Of stars that angel-like unveil 
Their beauty, kneel, ere hope shall fail ! 

Yes, all your sorrows cast 
Back on the darkened past, 
And, meek, at Nature's hallowed shrine, 
Invoke her aid, and smile divine. 

And in her sacred word, 

Too seldom read or heard, 
Confide with an unfaltering trust, 
And learn that all her law3 are just. 



r75) 



76 TRUSTING TO NATURE. 

Her stern commands obey, 
And for her guidance pray, 
And wait the change, the second birth, 
When sorrow's reign shall cease on earth. 

The birth that lifts the soul 
To realms where anthems roll, 
And all the kindred ties of time 
Are lost in boundless love sublime I 



CUBA. 

(WRITTEN IN 1858.) 

Isle of a summer sea, 

Fragrant with Eden's flowers, 
God meant thee to be free, 

And wills thee to be ours ! 

The blood of generous hearts 
Has freely drenched thy soil ; 

That blood new strength imparts, 
Which tyrants cannot foil ! 

Within thy fair retreat, 
'Mid victory and flame, 

Thy sons shall yet repeat 
Huzzas in Freedom's name! 



(77) 



78 CUBA. 



Yes, where his ashes rest 
Whose eye revealed a world, 

From towers and mountain crest, 
Our flag shall be unfurled ! 

In truth, it is but just 

That Freedom's hand should hold, 
Confided to her trust, 

The key to lands of gold I 



SUMMER. 

Lo ! Summer serenely advances, 
Arrayed in the smiles of the sun; 

While zephyrs are weaving their dances 
In vales where the rivulets run ; 

And notes from the woodland soothingly steal 

The heart that is wounded — never to heal ! 

When alone — a recluse in the bower — 
Communion with Nature how sweet ! 

Her whispers and smiles have the power, 
Amid flowers that gem her retreat, 

To recall the bright visions which have flown, 

And wake in the soul a heaven of its own. 

(79) 



80 SUMMER. 

Though Summer ere long, with her pleasures, 
Must yield to the cold winter blast, 

And we, who are fed from her treasures, 
Depart, and be lost in the past; 

Yet Hope, like a star still unclouded and bright, 

Dispels every fear, and illumines the night! 



THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. 

Now falling, falling from the sky, 
There comes a pleasant strain, 

That lights with joy the floweret's eye, 
The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling on the roof, 

And on the window pane, 
It breathes of love that needs no proof, 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling down in showers, 

It cheers the waving grain, 
And gives delight to summer hours, 

The music of the rain. 

(81) 



THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. 

And falling, falling in its mirth, 

It wakes to life again 
The fainting world of lovely birth, 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling sweet and low, 

It falls on hill and plain, 
And speeds the rills that dancing flow, 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling from the eaves, 

It mingles its refrain 
With his, who waits to gather sheaves, 

The music of the rain. 

And falling, falling far and near, 

It never falls in vain ; 
O welcome then, with heart sincere, 

The music of the rain ! 



HEREAFTER. 

Alas! how fearful — silent — vast, 
The dim and shadowy realm, 

Where undisputed reigns the Past, 
And voiceless waves o'erwhelm, 

In dark oblivion's darker tide, 

All that we are, with all our pride, 
Lost in the dread Hereafter ! 

And will there be no whisper heard, 

No voices, kind and sweet ; 
No tender heart-string, touched or stirred ; 

No love that is complete, 
To soothe the grief that cannot speak ; 
No faithful friend, tear-eyed and meek ; 

None in the dread Hereafter ? 



(83) 



84 HEREAFTER. 

And will there be no more of earth, 
No more of sky and stars ; 

No hills or vales, or vernal birth 
Of flowers, or radiant bars 

Of light to break upon the stream, 

That bears us onward, like a dream, 
On, in the dread Hereafter ? 

Believe — there is no death for him, 
Who lives on earth aright ; 

He sees no shadows, dark or grim ; 
For him there is no night — 

No last dull sleep — no fearful knell — 

No terrors — when he goes to dwell, 
There, in the dread Hereafter ! 

For life and death are but the same — 
Phantoms beneath the skies ; 

And yet the stars with radiant flame 
Shall crown the good and wise ; 

And all that live, though wrapt in fire, 

Survive the test, and bless their Sire, 
Blest in the dread Hereafter ! 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

With all their virtues plain and stern, 
The good old times have sped ; 

And now the wisdom which we learn, 
Turns giddy every head ; 

And yet 'tis wrong, I ween, to spurn 
Our old ancestral dead ! 

Our Pilgrim sires were taught of God, 
And solemn psalms they sung ; 

They trained their children with the rod, 
And witch and wizard hung ! 

Yet, if they erred — 'tis nothing odd — 
All err — both old and young ! 

They earned by toil whate'er they had, 
Since Heaven ordained it so ; 



(87) 



88 ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

Nor with the fashions went they mad, 
Nor cramped they waist or toe ; 

Nor like the lily, pale and sad, 
Looked every belle and bean ! 

The girls were taught to spin and weave, 

The boys to hold the plow ; 
'Twas then thought wise — and I believe 

As wise it might be now, 
If people would their scheming leave, 

And live by sweat of brow. 

The good old times were good enough, 
Though times more polished dawn ; 

Men then were made of sterner stuff 
Than those that now are born ; 

Though plain they were and somewhat rough, 
Yet why their virtues scorn ? 

In groups that grace the parlor wall, 

How pleasant still to see 
The dear old portraits, which recall 

Our honored ancestry ; 
Grand-parents, uncles, aunts, and all, 

Who danced us on the knee ! 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 89 

Oh yes ! I still remember well 

My Grandsire's aged look, 
The witching tales he deigned to tell, 

And how, from sacred Book, 
He oft explained why Adam fell, 

And man the right forsook ! 

He used to wear a broad-brimmed hat, 

A buckle gemmed each knee ; 
The old arm-chair in which he sat, 

It cheers me still to see ; 
With powdered wig and queue, all that, 

None looked so grave as he. 

His was a high and manly brow, 

With locks of silver gray; 
He ne'er to Britain's pride would bow, 

Nor for her king would pray ) 
Nor would he yield, like statesmen now, 

His principles for pay ! 

But strong of limb, and brave at heart, 
He swung a brawny arm ; 



90 ANCESTRAL PORTRAIT. S. 

And promptly bore a hero's part 

'Mid danger and alarm ; 
And though oft pierced by sorrow's dart, 

His manner still was calm. 

He loved to tell his history o'er, 
And speak of war's dread crimes, 

And laud the deeds he did of yore, 
Which beat all modern times ! y. 

The worldly goods he left in store — 
All heirs could ask, save dimes ! 

Though poor, he was a patriot true, 
Had fought in Freedom's cause ; 

And all he owed he paid when due, 
His debt to Nature's laws ; 

In fact, from earth have passed but few, 
With heart as free from flaws. 

If 'midst old graves you choose to tramp, 
You still may read in print, 

Upon his head-stone, cold and damp, 
This brief, yet truthful hint — 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 91 

" Here lies a man of Nature's stamp, 
The coinage of her mint!" — 

But what of her, who wore a cap, 

And hoop to swell her skirt ; 
Dear Grandam, who, with many a chap, 

When young, inclined to flirt ; 
And e'en in age, whate'er might hap, 

Seemed girlish, prim and pert ! 

Though seeming gay, she used to read 

Her Bible with delight, 
And deeply felt that mortals need 

God's grace to keep them right ; 
Always with heart that seemed to bleed, 

She said her prayers at night ! 

She led a life none need despise, 

Affectionate and kind ; 
And under holy guidance wise, 

Her duty sought to find ; 
And oft relieved, with pitying eyes, 

The poor, the halt, the blind. 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

When very old, her length of nose 
Hung sword-like o'er her chin ; 

Yet she was cheerful to life's close, 
Though but a shadow thin ; 

Oft rocked my cradle, I suppose, 
And loved to knit and spin. 

The most I recollect of her, 

Is how she used to try, 
With pointed thread, half lost in blur, 

To hit her needle's eye ; 
And though vexations would occur, 

She ne'er indulged a sigh. 

The good old lady has been dead 

Some thirty years at least ; 
The stone is carved that guards her head 

With cherubs gazing East ; 
And where she sleeps but few now tread, 

The worm has had its feast ! — 

Uncle, who was an only son, 
For riches never toiled ; 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 93 

Though he in youth loved mirth and fun, 

And sports that oft recoiled, 
Yet what was wrong he aimed to shun, 

And ne'er his morals soiled. 

But when parental power had lost 

O'er him its kind control, 
He rarely stopped to count the cost, 

The worth of time or soul ; 
But onward floated, tempest-tost, 

Where'er life's wave might roll ! 

His head with many a vision swam, 

The world he longed to see ; 
Or Greenland's isle, or land of Ham, 

It mattered not, so he, 
No longer tethered like the lamb, 

Could rove, unchecked and free. 

Ere twenty-one, most foreign lands 

'Tis said that he had seen ; 
Though fearful still of wedlock's bands, 

At forty, as I ween, 



94 ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

He sometimes thought of joining hands ; 
What did the fellow mean ? 

However strange, the truth to say, 
Love's vow at last he made, 

And sealed it, too, one eve in May, 
With her who graced the glade ; 

And ever, from that happy day, 
He led a life that's staid. 

Whate'er may be by prudes required, 

Who join in nuptial state ; 
He proved the model man desired, 

And she the loving mate ; 
And blest of heaven, they ne'er grew tired 

Of " little cares " or great ! 

But stronger grew the silken tie, 
As sped their happy years ; 

And with their treasures laid on high, 
They banished all their fears ; 

And when at last they came to die, 
Were mourned with many tears !— 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 95 

If half they say of Aunt be true, 

Her youthful charms were rare ; 
Her teeth were pearl, her eyes were blue, 

And auburn was her hair ; 
Her lip a rosebud, bathed in dew, 

Her brow, angelic, fair. 

Never had maid a prettier hand, 

Or daintier foot, than she ; 
Nor rosier cheek had zephyr fanned 

Than hers, as all agree ; 
Her smile was like a seraph's, bland, 

Her footstep, light and free. 

With thumb and finger, you would think 

Her waist that you could span ; 
She knew just when 'twould do to wink, 

Or smile, behind her fan ; 
Ay, hers were charms, whose magic link 

'Twas hard to break, young man ! 

She dreamed of one — an idle dream — 
Whose look her fancy pleased ; 



96 ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 

Though but a dream, she did not seem 
By his indifference teased ; 

But clung to hope, till hope's last gleam 
Had left her heart diseased ! 

When rouge supplants the artless rose, 

And life's a wintry sea, 
None but an ancient maiden knows 

How pleasant it must be 
To hear a gentleman propose, 

And see him bend the knee ! 

Ah, who can tell with what desire 
Aunt wished her years were stayed, 

When youth had lost its subtle fire, 
And charms began to fade ; 

Yet ripening years saw her expiro 
A lily in the shade ! — 

And thus have all of that dear throng, 
Who cheered the ancestral hearth, 

When I was young, and love was strong, 
And pure as flowers at birth, 



ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 9? 

Now trod the lonely way that's long, 
Nor more will visit earth. 

When I return to earth's dull mould, 

Perhaps some kindred dear 
Will smile to hear my foibles told, 

And think my portrait queer ; 
Nor matters it, if, when unrolled, 

Life's record still be clear. 



98) 



THE QUEEN OF NIGHT. 

Pale wanderer in the azure field, 
That blossometh with stars ; 

Guarding thy breast with silver shield, 
Yet hurling silver bars, 

Say, why so fickle, in thy round, 

Through realms celestial and profound? 

And why, with ever-smiling face, 

O'er golden pathways lone, 
Dost thou at eve delight to chase 

Dim shadows, all thine own, 
Yet beautiful — and lovely too — 
As rosy nymphs that brush the dew? 



THE QUEEN OF NIGHT. 99 

And why, in thine employ, retain 

That archer ever bold, 
Who aims at maiden and at swain 

His arrows, tipped with gold ; 
Yet strives to soothe, with winning art, 
And holiest vow, the wounded heart ? 

Empress of love ! — 'tis ever thine 

To wield a magic power, 
That's earthly half, and half divine ; 

And thine the witching hour, 
When pledges sweet are often given — 
Yet only true — when sealed in heaven ! 

LOFC. 



(100) 



A CONCEIT. 

Old Father Time, with nod sublime, 

And hammer in Ins hand., 
Proclaims aloud, as from a cloud, 

The sale of sea and land, 

With hammer in his hand ! 

Ask not for grace, but take your place, 
And hear him cry the sale ; 

He speaks in tones that shatter thrones, 
Nor lists to those who wail ; 
Ah, hear him cry the sale ! 

Before him lies full many a prize, 

In rich array displayed ; 
Yes, all that's dear to mortals here, 

Of life, its light, and shade, 

In rich array displayed. 



A CONCEIT. 101 

He breaks life's spell, nor grieves to sell 

Fond hopes to which we cling ; 
Honor and fame, and wealth and name, 

Vain things — what will they bring? 

Fond hopes to which we cling ! 

He spareth naught, not e'en a thought, 

Though beautiful and true ; 
But strikes down all, then flings a pall, 

And screens the world from view, 

The beautiful and true ! — 

Nor does he wait at Heaven's high gate, 

Nor does he shed a tear ; 
But breaks the bars and smites the stars, 

And dark grows every sphere ; 

Nor does he shed a tear ! — 

But doomed now dies, 'neath blacken'd skies, 

Remembered never more ! 
And now, downcast, the silent Past, 

In darkness, hides her store ; 

Remembered never more ! 



THE OLD CHURCH. 

[in imitation of "woodman, spare that tree."] 

Oh, spare that sacred fane ! 

It has a wide renown; 
Methinks ye are insane, 

Who wish to tear it down ! 

Never assail its wall, 
Nor sever heart-felt ties ; 

But oftener still recall 

Its teachings, good and*wise. 

Ah, had I but the power, 
I'd stay the violent hand 

That dares prostrate its tower ; 
Oh, let that old Church stand ! 



(102) 



THE OLD CHURCH. 103 

But no ! — 'tis all in vain — 

Old Church, thy doom is sealed ! 
Though tears may fall like rain, 

Thy firmest friends must yield ! 

And yet how sad to see 

Thy sacred walls thrown down ! 
It is a stern decree— 

And well deserves a frown. 

Yet Sabbath hours will bring 

Still back thine organ's peal, 
Which gave my spirit wing, 

And fired my soul with zeal. 

Blest hours, when crowds drew near, 

And, at thine altar's side, 
Worshiped with hearts sincere, 

Nor cherished worldly pride ! 

Though on thy ruins rise 

A prouder pile than thine ; 
Yet towers, that reach the sides, 

Can ne'er restore thy shrine. 



104 THE OLD CHURCH. 

Nor they their grief conceal, 
Who hear no more thy bell ; 

Tried friends, who sought thy weal, 
And bid thee now farewell ! 

Yet many a lip that's sweet, 
And fresh with Hermon's dew, 

Will still thy creed repeat, 
And bless thy memory too ! 

Ay, bless the day that saw 
Thy unassuming tower ; 

And long, with saintly awe. 
Lament thy fated hour ! 



MONTICELLO. 

Seat of the Patriot, Statesman, Sage, 

How changed are now thy classic halls ! 
Proud relic of a sterner Age, 

Methinks, still floating o'er thy walls, 
Afar on Monticello's height I see 
The spangled banner of the brave and free ! 

And as I gaze with raptured soul, 

The vision brightens and grows clear ; 
And now appears, with pen and scroll, 
The hovering spirit of the seer, 
Who traced in lines of light his thoughts inspired — 
Fair Freedom's creed, with which his soul was fired! 

(105) 



101) MONTICELLO. 

And on his brow, with wreath entwined, 

There resta a calm and hallowed light; 
A light, that speak? the god-like mind. 

Which oft, like fire from mountain height. 
Flashed far and wide, and, with electric stroke, 
The slumbering tyrants of the world awoke ! 

The free-born thoughts, which lay concealed 

Within his breast, and in his plan, 
Begat high hopes, when thus revealed, 
And bred a higher faith in man ! — 
Nor can our Country boast a prouder name, 
Than his, who penned her deathless scroll of fame 



THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR. 

Lo, tha year now retires, 
The sad Old Year, like a king from his throne ; 
And, fated, he sinks, unwept and alone, 

To the grave of his sires ! 

Yet he bears in his hand 
A scroll of sweet memories, traced with a tear ; 
Thoughts which come back to the heart, like a seer, 

Fro: .1 the dark Silent Land ! 

The decrees of his reign 
Enshrined let us cherish, though summoned to part 
With friends whom we loved, the wealth of the heart, 

In the vale of the plain ! 

(107) 



108 THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAH. 

'Neath a sky overcast, 
We, too, must tread the dark valley in turn ; 
Thus Destiny yields, prophetic and stern, 

All that live, to the Past ! 

Yet we sigh for the years, 
Which hope has begemmed with promises bright, 
And wait, though they, come not, save with the night 

Of the grave, and with tears I 



FLOATING ALONG. 

On the ocean of life, 

With a, lovely young wife, 
And a bark that is trim and strong, 

He departs, while the ray 

Of a star lights his way, 
Pleasantly, pleasantly, floating along. 

I see him, nor forget 

That I love him, e'en yet, 
Though forsaken I'm left with the throng 

Ah, the promise he made, 

In my heart I had laid, 
Trustingly, trustingly, floating along ! 



(109) 



110 FLOATING ALONG. 

In the light of a smile, 
Let him seek the bright isle, 

Where life ever glides like a song; 
Yet methinks he will quake 
At the cloud in his wake, 

Fearfully, fearfully, floating along ! 

Let him go, let him go, 
I'll dismiss every woe; 

Indeed, I forgive him the wrong, 
Since I now am the bride 
Of the knight at my side, 

Happily, happily, floating along ! 



MORE SPACE. 

Give Freedom space, more space, 
Her proud domain extend ; 

But ne'er a step retrace — 
Her blood-bought soil defend ! 

Space for the brave, more space, 

O'er continent and sea ; 
Send forth Columbia's race, 

Her sons of liberty. 

Space for her eaglets, space, 
In other climes to soar — 

Soar in the sun's bright face, 
Heralds from every shore. 



(Ill) 



112 MORE SPACE. 

Space for her banner, space, 
On every breeze to float, 

While tyrants trembling trace 
Their fate, not far remote ! 

Space for the free, more space ; 

Ay, space for every man, 
Who dares to fill his place — 
Godlike in Nature's plan ! 

Give Freedom space, more space , 
Her proud domain extend, 

But ne'er a step retrace, 

For God is Freedom's Friend ! 



TO A POETESS. 

Swan of the sweet and pensive song, 

Forgive this proffered lay ; 
Though envied by a rival throng, 

Aspire ! and win thy way 
To every heart that loves delight. 

Traced on the scroll of fame, 

Already thine's a name 
That, brightening, sheds a stellar light 

Fear not ! but trust to bolder wing, 

And, in a trackless sky, 
Ascend 'mid stars, whose anthems fling 

Still back a sweet reply ! 

(113) 



114 TO A POETESS. 

Aspire ! nor heed the critic's blast, 
But still, with many a gem, 
Enrich thy diadem — 

And pour thy strains, and they shall last, 

Yes, warbler of our Western Land, 

The destiny is thine, 
Among the gifted few to stand, 

A favorite of the Nine. 
Aspire ! and o'er time's ocean tide 

Still loftier strike thy lyre ; 

Strike it, with soul of fire, 
To notes that wake a Nation's pride ! 



TACIT LANGUAGE. 

When eye for eye is glancing, 

Oft deep emotions rise, 
Entwined with thoughts entrancing, 

Whose memory never dies ! 

When sigh for sigh is heaving, 
Oft joy with grief is blent ; 

But when fond hopes are leaving, 
How sad the heart's lament ! 

When smile for smile is lighting 

The fair angelic brow, 
On lips that seem inviting, 

Who would not seal his vow ? 



(115) 



116 TACIT LANGUAGE. 

When tear for tear is flowing, 
Its light full oft reveals 

A cherished love that's glowing, 
Which still the lip conceals ! 

When heart for heart is beating, 
Its language must be true ; 

The heart cannot be cheating 
That only beats for you ! 



THE VISIONARY. 

A child of genius — born — 

Not bred in schools, 
He scorns the world's proud scorn, 

Though ranked with fools, 
And holds a converse that's refined 
"With Nature, and with Nature's Mind. 

Nor does he delve with those 

Who delve for gold ; 
But, rapt in calm repose, 

Like seer of old, 
He walks with God the stellar deep, 
Where tides of light unbounded sweep. 



(117) 



118 TIIE VISIONAKY 

And wonders why were made 

The earth and stars, 
Whose music rolls, unstayed, 

In golden bars ; 
Nor strives to quench the subtle fire 
That wakes his soul to high desire. 

Though all that man calls great, 

Should he attain, 
It would not — could not sate 

His burning brain ; 
For lie would reach the source of light, 
And share, enthroned, the Almighty's might ! 

Thus lost in thought that's free, 

And manifold, 
He ever drifts at sea — 

Starless, and bold ; 
Yet cannot break the imperial seal 
Of fate, nor life's dark myth reveal! 



THE RAINBOW. 

How beautiful to wondering eyes 

The Rainbow's flame, 
That spans the earth and tints the skies, 

Hallowed in name, 
And blent with more than Tyrian dyes ! 

How, like bright hopes, its glories shine, 

Distant, yet nigh ; 
Its woven hues, how divine ! 

Though doomed to die 
In fitful mood, like hopes of mine. 

And yet, within the heavenly gate, 

Its smiles invite 
Earth's weary pilgrim, child of fate, 

To share the light 

Which death nor gloom can dissipate. 

(119) 



120 THE RAINBOW. 

It cheers the faith to which we cling, 

Faith in the dream 
Of life, and in the hopes that fling 

Earthward a gleam 
Of heaven, like flash of angel's wing. 

Emblem of love and power untold, 

It crowns His brow, 
Who doth the skies about Him fold, 

Keeping His vow, 
And promise ever — as of old ! 



THE LAND OF FEEEDOM. 

6 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

[written* in 1850.] 

I. 

An, who recalls the dark unhallowed deeds, 
Which mark the sterner ages long gone by, 
Nor starts at wrongs o'er which the heart still bleeds, 
When despots reigned, and bade their victims die, 
And vainly flowed the tear from Pity's eye! — 
Though ours an age that's brighter, happier far, 
Yet half mankind still bow, they know not why, 
To sceptred power, or creeds they dare not mar ; 
Nor yet perceive the light that beams from Freedom's star, 

(123) 



124 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 



But why despair ? there lives a spark divine 
Within man's breast, surviving earth and tears » 
And where the moral virtues rear their shrine, 
There heart to heart the social tie endears ; 
While Hope, whose star illumes the coming years, 
Inspires, with loftier aims and nobler zeal, 
Man's faith in man. and dissipates his fears, 
And nerves his arm to strike, 'mid clashing steel, 
For God and truth, though empires to their centres reel ! 

in. 

With smiling brow, and lip that breathes of peace, 
From Eden's sheltering bowers, nymph-like, she came, 
Nor found a genial clime, until in Greece, 
She there of yore acquired a glorious name, 
Freedom, whose pilgrimage is still of fame ; 
And 'neath whose banner heroes fought and bled, 
Hurling the tyrants down to dust and shame, 
Who scourged the land in which the Arts were bred, 
And where, in glory shrined, repose the mighty dead! — 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 125 

IV. 

In that illustrious age when Athens shone, 
And men the powers of earth and air adored, 
There breathed a martial spirit, now unknown, 
And long, with undipped wing, that spirit soared, 
While human breasts with high resolves were stored, 
And valiant deeds were done of great renown ! 
An age in which mankind preferred the sword, 
And heroes strove to cleave stern heroes down, 
Nor yet appeased the gods, who swayed by smile or frown. 

v. 

Then came an age as sparkling as its wine, 
With mysteries, which took the form of creeds, 
And vows were paid at many an honored shrine, 
While passion swayed the heart, and moral weeds, 
Like noxious plants that broadcast sow their seeds, 
Struck deep in genial soil, and ranklier grew ; 
Yet gods conversed with men, and Faith, that heeds 
The marvelous, believed, howe'er untrue, 
The dark responses, which, from unseen lips, she drew ! 



126 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

VI. 

Temples, from heights revered, overlooked the plain, 
And patient Art, endowed with magic powers, 
Gave unto Parian marble life and brain, 
And sympathies, which link tfie circling hours 
Of time with classic beauty, and with flowers ; 
Symbols, which still attract our wondering eyes, 
And still recall the listening groves and bowers, 
Where sages calmly walked hi humble guise, 
And held discourse with youth and taught them to be wise. 

VII. 

And when, at last, the bold, impulsive Greek 
Broke from the bounds of templed hills and vales, 
He left upon the plain and mountain peak 
Of other lands his trace ; and on the gales 
Sent forth a power which will, till blight assails 
The earth, expand, and chasten human thought ; 
And yet how saddening were the hopeless wails, 
Uttered of old, when cruel deeds were wrought, 
And tyrants gave command, and faith was sold and bought. 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 127 

VIII. 

Yet he, who aimed at empire, ne'er had dreamed, 
When Rome's foundations were by hini begun, 
What lasting glory o'er him distant streamed, 
The while his warlike deeds were nobly done, 
And stratagem the Sabine women won ! — 
But when the city, from her throne of hills, 
Beheld her fire-eyed eagles pierce the sun, 
She seized on power that does whate'er it wills. 
Nor kept her plighted faith, nor heeded human ills. 

rx. 

Still, in her better days, stern men were bred, 
Patriots, who loved their country but too well ; 
And who, unawed, the flame of freedom fed, 
Till Luxury and Vice with conquering spell 
Crept in, and fearful woes the state befell ! 
And yet the Eternal City lives, though shorn 
Of ancient power, her name and fame to tell ; 
While, 'mid her ruins, shadows stalk forlorn, 
And point at her degenerate sons, with silent scorn 



128 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

X. 

Alas ! with all his pride, and pomp, and power, 
The law of love, nor Greek nor Roman knew ; 
Though martial glory crowned his triumph hour, 
'Mid trophies which attracted public view ; 
Though oft proclaimed a hero, matchless, too ; 
'Twas not enough ; for his ambition's aim 
Still fired his soul, as still the sword he drew ; 
And thus led on by that enchantress, Fame, 
He sought to rank with gods, and craved a deathless name. 

XL 

Freedom, whose cradle was the fearful storm, 
As ages rolled and darkness slow retired, 
Maintained her faith, and with affections warm, 
Became at length of holier truths inspired, 
And clad in sacred armor never tired ; 
But still, with frenzied eye and proud disdain, 
Repelled her foes, and won a fame desired ; 
Nor from her shield erased the crimson stain, 
But wide, and wider still, extended her domain. 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 129 



XII. 



And men grew wiser — better — as the flame 
On Freedom's altar burned with clearer light, 
And though dark years with darker errors came, 
And fierce crusades, with hate and venom'd spite ; 
Though many a hero, mail-clad, fell in fight ; 
Yet Christian temples rose to bless the land, 
While truth prevailed by force of moral might, 
And, as the slumbering fires of faith were fanned, 
E'en mitred priest, at last, relaxed his grasping hand! 

XIII. 

And moral heroes, weaned from mystic fear, 
Flung off disguise, and strove with iron will 
Their favorite creeds to herald, far and near ; 
Yet strife begat but strife, with woes that chill 
The manliest heart, 'mid scenes of glen and hill, 
Where many a martyr, rash in conflict, fell, 
And, tinged with crimson, flowed the mountain rill ; 
And where, 'mid desolation's brooding spell, 
The spirit of the past, still ruthless, seems to dwell. 



130 THE LAND OF FREEDOM 

XIV. 

'Twas thus, in proudest lands of earlier time, 
When Freedom held, at best, imperfect sway, 
That seeds were sown, which yet, in every clime, 
Will spring to life as dawns the genial day, 
When kings retire, and slavish creeds give way ! 
But when from Europe sailed her daring son, 
Who sought and found, in all its wild array, 
A western world, how great the blessing won, 
How great in years which yet shall in their circles run \ 

XV. 

What though, in later times, the queenly Isle, 
That jealous Mistress of the treasured sea, 
Assumed an unrelenting power the while, 
And bade her subjects bend a suppliant knee ; 
What though she did not leave opinions free ; 
There lived stern men, e'en then, an honest few, 
Who, taught by conscience, ever scorned to be 
The dupes of royal pride ; their rights they knew ; 
And knowing them, remained to Glod and Freedom true. 



THE LAND OP FREEDOM. 131 

XVI. 

The Puritans, so called, with meaning sneer, 
Had struggled long, and daringly, though vain, 
Against the sceptre's scourge, nor ceased they here ; 
For hope had flung her rainbow o'er the main, 
And pointed to a land without a stain ! — 
But still the pure affections of the heart 
Endeared to them the mountain and the plain, 
Their native clime, from which 'twas hard to part, 
And leave their fathers' graves for wilds where terrors start ! 

XVII. 

Yet when relentless wrong hath nerved the arm, 
And stirred the soul, and waked the spirit there, 
Men break their chains ; nor can the tyrant calm 
The rising storm, nor curb the brave, who dare 
Defend their dearest rights with bosoms bare ! — 
How blest the world, when tyranny shall yield 
To stern reform — and all the nations share 
A purer faith — and trusting in the shield 
Of virtue, see a manhood, nobler yet, revealed! 



132 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

xvm. 

The Pilgrims now convened on ocean's strand, 
And knelt to Heaven, yet lingered long to gaze 
On friends and skies they loved, like Israel's band, 
Whose pathway was the sea in ancient days. 
The parting hour had come ! — beneath the blaze 
Of Autumn's sun, they bade a last farewell 
To Britain's Isle, and launched, without amaze, 
Upon the billowy deep, where dangers dwell, 
And spread their sails to winds that sighed o'er ocean's swell. 

XIX. 

" Westward the star of empire takes its way," 
Destined to glow within a broader sky, 
And flash with light, which yet shall fling its ray 
Afar o'er earth's domain where shadows he, 
Inspiring joy and hope that will not die ! — 
Yes, with a faith which gave them faith in man, 
Heroes upon that star now fixed their eye, 
And, in the future, saw the God-like plan, 
Which God himself had traced, as on they led the van ! 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 133 



XX. 



Hope gave them cheer, and "waved her golden hair," 
Onward the voyagers plowed the trackless sea, 
'Mid storm and tempest and the lightning's glare, 
Resolved to bend to none but God the knee ; 
And after many days, they joyed to see 
Columbia's hills — nor yielded to the shock, 
When woodlands rang with shouts of savage glee ; 
But calm and trustful still, that Pilgrim flock 
Now disembarked, and consecrated Plymouth Rock ! 

XXI. 

The Rock, that's firmly planted by the sea, 
Prescribing bounds where proudest waves are stayed, 
The land-mark, which was set to Liberty, 
When earth's foundations broad and deep were laid ; 
The Rock, on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid, 7 
Who led the way with smiles that ever cheer ; 
The spot, that's guarded still by Freedom's blade, 
Where oft the patriot drops a grateful tear, 
And breathes the honored names of those who slumber near ! 



134 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

XXII. 

Names that will live when centuries depart, 
And still in moral virtue faith inspire, 
And back to many a patriot's throbbing heart, 
Respond with balmy lip, as child to sire, 
Waking within the soul the hallowed fire 
That ever prompts the brave, who dare reclaim 
Their heaven-born rights, despite the tyrant's ire ! 
'Twas here the Pilgrims reared, with purest aim, 
Altars to God, and lit them up with Freedom's flame ! 

XXIII. 

And here their homes, the wilds which they beheld , 
Their temple's space, the earth and open air ; 
Their sacred groves, the mystic pines unfelled, 
Their solemn rites, the fervent heart-felt prayer ; 
Enough for them — so Israel's God were there ! 
When thoughts are pure, and Nature silent reigns, 
How blest the hour released from toil and care ; 
An hour when angels breathe diviner strains, 
And listening earth rejoices through her wide domains. 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 13* 



XXIV. 



But when the Pilgrim's steel had rashly spilt 
The red-man's blood, 'twas then that fires were lit 
On mountain peaks, and hearts that never wilt, 
Or yield to tears, were roused to deeds unwrit ; 
'Twas then that dusky warriors, plumed, did sit 
In council, and their rights and wrongs recount, 
And, in their rage, with brows indignant knit, 
Resolve to drive, beyond the farthest mount, 
The intruders on their soil, or drain life's crimson fount! 



XXV. 

Though girt with forests, and a mountain chain, 
Whose slopes and glens, and secret caverns dark, 
Had ever been the red-man's wild domain, 
The Pilgrims clung to Hope's expiring spark, 
And struggled with their foes, and set the mark 
Of empire there on ocean's circling strand ; 
And like the chosen few, who left the Ark, 
Went forth to scatter blessings through the land, 
And rear the tree of Liberty, with fostering hand. 



136 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

XXVI. 

True to their faith, the Puritans were bold, 
And breathed a spirit which is destined yet 
To sway the world, and truths still new unfold, 
Commingling elements that ne'er have met, 
And prompting thoughts the world will not forget— 
Great thoughts, and doctrines, too, of human right ; 
For they were men, who broke, without regret, 
Through ancient barriers, gifted with a might 
That none can crush, yet guided by celestial light. 

XXVII. 

When Freedom, plumed for glory's bright career, 
Had been restrained, there woke a quenchless flame ; 
And men stood forth, unawed by taunt or sneer, 
Who sought the battle-field, and won a name 
That will not die — a proud immortal fame ! 
Dread days ! when rallying trump and drum were heard, 
And traitors bore, like Cain, the mark of shame 
• Upon their brows — when Britain's ire was stirred, 
And e'en the patriot's hope seemed hopelessly deferred! 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 137 



XXVIII. 



Yet sentiments that flashed from patriot pen, 
Startled the world, and vexed the royal ear, 
And, like a message sent from heaven to men, 
Illumed in eyes, unused to weep, the tear; 
The immortal scroll, which freemen still revere, 
And all mankind respect — a trust that's thine, 
And mine ; betray it not, nor yield to fear ; 
But still make Freedom's cause a cause divine, 
And ever pure shall burn the flame that lights her shrine. 

XXIX. 

'Twas in those days, that men of iron nerve 
Proved to the world their courage and then' worth ; 
And they were men, whom threats nor gold could swerve 
From duty — Nature's noblemen by birth — 
Who, in defense of life and cherished hearth, 
And altars burning bright with sacred fires, 
Poured out their blood upon the crimsoned earth, 
A free libation to their high desires, 
And love of right, which, in the true heart, ne'er expires ! 



138 THE LAND OP FREEDOM. 

XXX. 

And though but few, yet resolute and strong, 
Our banded sires withstood the invading foe, 
And, 'neath their country's banner, struggled long, 
Led on through varied scenes of blood and woe, 
'Mid battle-smoke and cannon's fiery glow, 
By him whose gallant deeds were ne'er outdone, 
And who, at Yorktown, struck the final blow ! 
Glorious as great, the triumph which was won, 
For Man, for Freedom, and the Land of Washington ! 

XXXI. 

Resplendent as the flame that cleaves the cloud, 
Thy banner yet shall flash in every sky, 
Columbia ! — yes, as fearless and as proud, 
As were their sires, thy sons, when foes are nigh, 
And conflict comes, shall win the field, or die ! 
Sunward thine eagle still shall wing his flight, 
And tyrants read their doom with bitter sigh, 
While Honor, Glory, Fame, with magic might, 
Shall ever fling upon thy brow a hallowed light ! 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 139 



XXXH. 



No brighter name than thine has yet been found 
In History's scroll ; none brighter will be writ. 
Though kings to empire born, may still be crowned, 
Whose " rights divine " ne'er gave them worth or wit, 
Nor e'en that sense of right, which makes man fit 
To govern man ; yet, armed with virtue's shield, 
While human hearts hi holier ties are knit, 
Still worthier men than kings will rise, and wield 
A juster sway on earth than has been yet revealed ! 

XXXIII. 

Land of the free ! the destiny that's thine 
Who can predict — or who that lives e'en dream ? 
And where shall Freedom fix her boundary line, 
In that good time when holier light shall gleam 
As if from heaven, and with its kindling beam 
Illuminate the dark, uncultured mind, 
Wherever found ? though bright the future seem, 
Yet errors born of ignorance that's blind, 
Insidious still, will still perchance mislead mankind ! 



140 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

XXXIV. 

For human weal or woe, sublime the trust 
Reposed in those who rule our favored land ; 
And yet temptations, such as spring from lust 
Of power, or love of fame, how few withstand ! 
How few whose virtues may not be unmanned ! 
But still there's hope in Freedom's sacred cause, 
While firmly leagued the Sisterhood shall stand, 
And men bear sway who seek not vain applause, 
Nor pander to embittered strife or bloody wars ! — 

XXXV. 

In schools of learning scattered far and wide, 
And cherished fanes that skyward lift their spires ; 
In zeal for truth that's based on virtue's pride, 
In brotherhood, and love, and pure desires, 
And generous hearts that burn with freedom's fires, 
Consist our Country's hope and future weal ; 
And while we bless the memory of our sires, 
For earth's oppressed still let us kindly feel, 
And speed the day when none to tyrant power shall kneel. 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 141 



XXXVI. 



Prophetic o'er the dark untrodden hills 
Of life, methinks I see a twinkling flame — 
The dawning of a star, whose light, God wills, 
Shall lead the way, and give the age a name, 
When erring man, with high and holy aim, 
Shall break the chains of mental tyranny, 
Which centuries have forged, and dare reclaim 
Himself — and ever rising in degree, 
Apply with bolder hand to lore that's locked the key ! 

XXXVII. 

And thus, as creed refined succeeds to creed. 
Mankind will learn unfathomed truths divine, 
Whose harmonies, like music from the reed, 
Breathe but of love ; though error's dark design 
May still the soul to waywardness incline. 
O yes ! — believe or not — there is a light 
That ever glows, undimmed, whose smile benign 
Tints earth and sky, and all of life that's bright, 
And e'en reveals to man his destiny and might ! 



142 THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 

XXXVIII. 

It is the light that falls from orient star, 
Like Hermon's clew upon the flowers at night ; 
And while it flings its hallowed ray afar, 
Inspires fresh hope, and points the way that's right ; 
And, with a power that gives to spirit sight, 
Unfolds to man the aim of life's career, 
And wins the soul to sec and feel its might, 
And then enthrones it in a heavenly sphere, 
Where still it seeks expanse, insatiate as when here 1 

XXXIX. 

When Nature speaks, she ever wins the heart 
With thought, and eloquence that's unsurpast ; 
How wise the lessons which she doth impart ! — 
Ah, when will he whose vices chain him fast, 
And whose fond hopes are such as cannot last, 
Bow meekly at her shrine, and there receive 
The gift that makes life's lot, wherever cast, 
The abode of many joys, nor longer grieve, 
In chase of dazzling phantoms, which, though won, deceive ! 



THE LAND OF FREEDOM. 143 



XL. 



There is a purity of thought which breathes 
Through Nature's works — a spirit ever calm 
That whispers of the sky, and gently wreathes 
Devotion's brow with flowers, and pours a balm 
That heals the bosom's grief, as if by charm ; 
And yet the worldling clings to vain desires, 
And vainer pomp and pride, which sadly harm 
The kindlier sympathies, and quench the fires 
That else would melt the soul to love, like music's wires. 



XLI. 

At starry eve, when all is hushed and lone, 
And sainted spirits deign to visit earth ; 
When leaves are green, and zephyrs sweetly moan 
Among the boughs, yet stoop in plaintive mirth, 
To kiss the roses bursting into birth ; 
O then it is that man, though born to tears, 
With lifted eye, may learn his moral worth, 
And trace a Power, whose smile illumes the spheres, 
And still imparts but joy through life's eternal years !— 



(H4) 



A PARTICULAR STAR. 

O'er the mountain, the hill and the vale, 
When the gems of the night gleam afar ; 

Say, who turns not with rapture to hail, 
High enthroned, a particular star? 

Though too fondly of bliss we may dream, 
And though sorrows our happiness mar ; 

Still, who loves not to bask in the beam 
Of a bright, yet particular star ? 

Who, that dwells 'neath the musical spheres, 
Chiming low without quaver or bar, 

Can resist the sweet smiles, or the tears, 
Of a very particular star ? 



A PARTICULAR STAR. 145 

Yes, as pure as the smile in the sky, 
"When the morning appears on her car, 

Is the love-light that gleams in the eye 
Of a dear, yet particular star ! 

May he find her the charm of his life, 

Ever kind without discord or jar,' 
Who, enraptured, has won for a wife 

An adored, yet 'particular star I 



INNOCENCE. 

How can a soul of sinless ray, 
Now breathing love, incline to stray, 

Or need to be forgiven ? 
Innocence ! with laughing eyes, 
Thou art a cherub from the skies, 

A wanderer from heaven. 

Ha ! gentle spirit, gift divine, 

There's nectar on those lips of thine— 

And sweet the kiss I've won ! 
There dwells no dew, on proffered lip, 
That's pure, like that on thine, to sip, 

On loveliest woman's, none 



(146) 



INNOCENCE. 147 

With heart sincere, while it shall beat, 
May violets spring beneath thy feet, 

And roses crown thy youth ; 
And when to womanhood attained, 
Still may thy graces be unfeigned, 

Thy friendship, love and truth ! 



THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY, 

'Mid snowy clouds of fragrant balm, 

let my fancy soar, 
Inspired with thoughts serene and calm, 

Cigars — if nothing more ! 

And though I crave but puffs of smoke, 

Nor care for learning's lore, 
I love my friends who love a joke, 

Cigars — if nothing more ! 

And fain would lead a peaceful life, 

And share my golden ore 

With friends long tried, perhaps a wife, 

Cigars — if nothing more I 
(148) 



THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY. 149 

And in a cottage on the hill 

Would keep an open door, 
And live like lord, who has his will, 

Cigars — if nothing more ! 

Nor murmur, if the gift were mine, 

Descendants three or four, 
To share my love, my name, and wine, 

Cigars — if nothing more! 

Nor need my heirs at last complain, 

So I but leave in store, 
Something to soothe the weary brain, 

Cigars — if nothing more. 



SYMPATHIES. 

I love to think that spirits dwell 
Upon the earth — the beautiful, the good, 
Whose sympathies are pure, yet understood 

By none, save those who feel the spell. 

I love to think that in life's vale, 
There are ungathered flowers, whose bosoms glow 
With silent feeling, and with tender woe, 

For him whose hopes, long cherished, fail ! 

I love to think that still a ray, 
Divine like that of hope, will long be felt 
By her to whom, in earlier years, I knelt, 

The vision of my darkened way ! 



(150) 



SYMPATHIES. 151 

I love to think that golden hours 
Will yet be mine, while here on earth I tread, 
Blest hours, when fairer skies will glow o'erhead, 

And naught spring 'neath my feet but flowers ! 

I love to think that I shall meet, 
In holier realms, the dear departed few ; 
Angelic souls — affectionate and true — 

Whose last kind words I oft repeat ! 

I love to think that I shall read 
The record of His mighty plan divine, 
Who dwells in light, and in each golden line 

Acquire the wisdom which I need. 

I love to think that I shall reign 
In some bright sphere, with power to tread the way 
From star to star, through life's eternal day, 

And still to higher spheres attain! 



THE LORE OF EARTH 

Methinks the Earth a Book, 

Sealed up for ages ; 
Till Science deigned to look 

Into its pages, 
Searching for truths mistook 

By ancient sages. 

The volume, sure, was writ 
With His own hand, 

Whose brow is ever kuit 

With thought unscanned, 

And who, with stars, has lit 
The Better Land ! 



(152) 



THE LORE OF EARTH. 153 

No book hath clearer print, 

None richer bound ; 
All wisdom without stint, 

A work profound, 
Which gives for every hint 

A reason sound; 

And fills, with pure desire, 

The soul unfed ; 
And e'en reveals, entire, 

The primal dead, 
Baptized in molten fire, 

At periods dread ; 

Footprints, where birds have trod ; 

Burnt hills and dells, 
Once clad with mould and sod ; 

And ferns, and shells, 
And pines that joyed to nod 

In sea-like swells; 

And dark unfathomed lakes, 

Where, far and wide, 
'Mid falling fiery flakes, 

Grim monsters died, 



154 



THE LORE OF EARTH. 

Engulfed by dread earthquakes, 
Beneath the tide ! 

Prepared was thus the way, 

When man appeared, 
Earth's lord, who claimed the sway, 

And was revered ; 
Yet tempted, went astray, 

With conscience seared! 

Ah ! who that still aspires 

Earth's lore to read, 
Can find, in prophet sires, 

All man doth need 
To sate enlarged desires, 

Or fix his creed ? 

He dwells in every flower, 

In every place, 
Who crowns with life each hour, 

And gives it grace, 
And bids us trace His power, 

Still face to face ! 



MAN. 

Sat, what is man? to ask — how vain ! 

His footsteps on death's brink ; 
Lo ! on his brow there rests a stain, 
And darkness veils his last domain, 

Where all affrighted sink ! 

Though but a breathing form of clay, 

How pure his first estate ! 
Inclined to walk in virtue's way, 
He strays the victim of a day — 

A moment seals his fate ! 



(155) 



156 MAN. 

Though born a slave, he still is free 

To will, to act, to love ; 
Though blindly linked to destiny, 
He still is lord of land and sea, 

His spirit's home above. 

Whate'er his creed, 'tis still denied ! 

Yes, oft for conscience' sake, 
The dupe of dark, fanatic pride, 
Hath spilled a brother's blood, or died 

A martyr at the stake. 

Alas ! condemned to toil and care, 

Allied to earth's cold sod, 
Man lives to grope in doubt, despair, 
And dies at last, perhaps to share 
The attributes of God I 



UNWRITTEN MUSIC. 

There 's music — music — everywhere, 

Unwritten music sweet; 
Love-notes that linger on the air, 

And in the calm retreat! 

There's music in the zephyr's sigh, 
And in the breath of flowers, 

And in the small, still voice that's nigh, 
And in the summer hours. 

There's music in the sighing pine, 

And in the rustling leaf, 

And in the prayer at holy shrine, 

And in the joy of grief. 

(157) 



158 UNWRITTEN MUSIC. 

There 's music in the waterfall, 
And in the song of bird, 

And in the cricket's chirping call, 
And in a kindly word. 

There 's music in the surging sea, 

And in the whispering shell, 
And in the wind that's ever free, 

And in the marriage bell. 

". 

There's music in the bosom's thrill, 
And in the heart's true beat, 

And in the twilight on the hill, 
And tread of angel feet. 

There 's music in the golden spheres, 
That chant the hymn of time ; 

And in the bright celestial years, 
Eternal and sublime! 



HIS LAST LETTER. 

Dearest ! a word, though words are vain ; 

'Twas fate's decree 
That bade us part, nor broke the chain 
Whose magic link enthralls my brain ; 

Remember me ! 

The lilied vale and clovered hill, 

The beechen tree, 
And willow drooping o'er the rill, 
How oft we sought — I seek them still ; 

Remember me ! 



(159) 



160 HIS LAST LETTER. 

Have you forgot that happy hour, 

Its mirth and glee, 
When last we sat beneath the bower, 
Ere hope had faded like a flower ? 

Remember me ! 

'Twas then we pledged both heart and hand, 

And can it be 
We ne'er shall at the altar stand, 
To seal that pledge and promise bland ? 

Remember me ! 

Though years have passed, yet still sincere 

I bend the knee, 
And ask of Heaven, with many a tear, 
To guide you safe through life's career ; 

Remember me ! 

Whate'er my fate — whate'er my lot 

On life's dark sea ; 
Though Nature sink, and be forgot, 
Believe — I will forget you not — 

Remember me ! 



HUMAN HEARTS. 

The wise of olden time, the good, the great, 
Who ne'er were schooled in creed or psalter, 

Believed what Nature taught ; yet men, of late, 
Believe — they know not what — and falter ! 

The striving elements are foes by fate, 
And, darkly passive, all things alter ; 

While human hearts, like mysteries, appear, 

Who reads them well, must wipe the falling tear ! 

Yet generous hearts that feel for others' need, 

Still beat to music, sad or golden; 
The sands of life run out with anxious speed, 

Yet men live on, and still embolden 

Themselves to do base deeds for which they bleed, 

Or sink in death .forever holden ; 

(161) 



162 HUMAN HEARrS. 

Forgetting and forgot beneath the knoll, 
And yet they live — immortal lives the soul. 

But ah ! how quick the thread of life is spun, 
How quick we die and waste to ashes ; 

And yet we love the world, and heedless run 
The race of life, like wave that dashes 

Upon the sullen beach — and all is done ! 
'Tis good to share affliction's lashes, 

And thus, by sad experience, sadly learn 

How frail our scanty joys this side the urn ! 

There is a magic in that word farewell! 

'Tis like a dirge that doth betoken 
The parting hour, the bosom's heaving swell, 

When holiest feelings are not spoken, 
But deeply felt — and this, a tear may tell, 

A bursting heart, already broken ! — 
Oft Beauty smiles to screen her bosom's grief; 
And oft, in secret tears, still finds relief! 

Yet woman is of heaven the goodliest gift, 
The first inspiring theme of poet ; 



HUMAN HEARTS. * 6 ^ 

'Tis woman's highest aim — it is her drift — 
To cheer life's weary way — I know it ! 

Her merits all must praise, nor dare to sift, 
Her eye persuades, when tears o'erflow it ! 

She is the true redeeming charm of life — 

An angel, always kindest, when a wife ! 

There is a language in the purling brook, 
And smiling flower, that's linked with reason. 

In Nature, all is truth — in every nook — 

Through land and sea, through time and season, 

And yet man's heart is but a mystic book, 
In which are writ deceit and treason, 

And secret things, which God alone can know, 

Intentions dark, and fearful deeds of woe 1 — 

Let him, who would reform the moral world, 

Go forth, and gather from the pages 
Of Nature's Book the wisdom there unfurled, 

And in the sky, and sea that rages, 
Search out the hidden truths which He impearled 

Beyond the ken of plodding sages ; 
And yet how vain his wisdom, and his pelf, 
Who ne'er has learned the lesson — " Know Thyself! " 



164 HUMAN HEARTS. 

Though earthly joys, like riches on the wing, 
Full oft bequeath to us but sorrow ; 

Yet hope dies not. The soul, that chainless thing, 
The mystery of life's dark morrow, 

Perchance, is but a breath to which we cling, 
Yet cling in vain ; but still, why borrow 

Imagined ills ; or fear that God will mar 

His handiwork — or quench a single star ! 



DEPARTED. 

Too pure for earth, too pure for earth, 

Thy home the Spirit Land, 
Where earth-born flowers unfading smile, 

Transferred by angel hand ! 

Yes, on thy brow, the calm, bright skies 
Of heaven their radiance shed ; 

The gift is thine — an angel's harp — 
How blest the early dead ! 

From sorrow's vale, uncheered and dark, 

From tears and vain desires, 
While young and sinless thou art freed — 

The soul to heaven aspires ! 



(165) 



166 DEPARTED. 

But still thy name remains entwined 
With memories ever dear ; 

And they, who on thee oft have smiled, 
Now smile but through a tear ! 

And yet, through tears, they hail the light 
That breaks from holier skies ; 

And know their footsteps, sad and lone, 
Are watched by angel eyes. 



THE CLASSIC LAND. 

Go shroud thee in the mist of olden time, 

Amid the ruins of the Past ; 
Go tread the templed hills of orient clime, 
And list to Patriot Bards, whose songs sublime 

Inspired, like peal of trumpet blast, 
The mountaineers, and woke the slumbering vales, 
Ere Greece was heard to pour her funeral wails ! 

Though fallen, glorious still, Greece, thy fate ! 

Glorious 'neath centuries of night ! 
For thine the Classic Land, the Ancient State, 
Where sprang the sister Arts ; and where the grca 

The good, the wise, who sought the right, 
Have reared to Ages, as they fleetly run, 
A proud philosophy, surpassed by none ! 



168 THE CLASSIC LAND. 

But where are now thy beautiful, and brave, 

Thy temples, gods, and festal games ? 
Awe-struck, we trace the isles that gem thy wave, 
And point to Athens, and revere thy grave ! — 

Yes, oft repeat thine honored names 
Of Heroes — Poets — Orators and Sage — 
And feel thine influence still in every Age ! 



THE CELESTIAL VISITANT. 

Like the ray of a lone bright star, 

Her spirit oft visits me still, 
And brings back the years from afar, 

When heart beat to heart with a thrill ! 

And tinting my dreams with the hue 
Of a smile derived from the sky, 

She moistens my brow with the dew 
Of a tear-drop, warm from her eye ! 

And sweetly she breathes in my ear 
The vow, which I made in my youth ; 

And with lips still fervid and dear, 
She pledges her love and her truth. 
8 (169) 



170 THE CELESTIAL VISITANT. 

And in tones still gentle and kind, 
She whispers of joys that are past, — 

Of life, with its pleasures refined, 

And of love's first dream, and its last ! 

And arrayed in her bridal flowers, 

Though life's early dream hath departed, 

Beyond the dark cloud that still lowers, 
She awaits me, my own true-hearted I 



THE MYSTIC CHART. 

Ah, who forgets his youthful day, 
Life's morning star of purest ray, 
When hopes were high and hearts were gay, 

Beneath that star's bright beam ? 
Ah, who would not retrace his way, 

And catch the tinted dream ? 

Though but a dream, its memories cheer 

The furrowed brow, and wipe the tear, 

While early friendships, ever dear, 

Their plighted faith renew ; 

And pleasure, from her radiant sphere, 

Bids every care adieu ! 

(171) 



172 THE MYSTIC CHART. 

Yet where are they, who sped the dance, 
When eye met eye with raptured glance, 
And hearts were yielding to the trance 

Of Beauty's magic charms ; 
And vows were made, as if by chance, 

"Which Memory still embalms ? 

But why that fairy throng recall ? — 
They come — but not to grace the hall ; 
They come with faded hopes, and all 

The sorrows of the heart ! — 
Like shadows flitting on the wall, 

They come, and, dim, depart ! 

And thus, like shadows, come and go 
Youth, Manhood, Age — life's joy and woe, 
With all on which we here bestow 

Our love and fondest care ! 
Yet why repine ? or seek to know 

The burdens we must bear ? 

And yet — the final lot of man, 
The grand design of Nature's plan, 
Her stern decrees ; ah, who can scan, 



THE MYSTIC CHART. 173 

Or learn what lies in store ? — 
"lis all we know that life's a span, 
And truth a hidden lore ! 

Hidden from all, who cannot trace 
In Nature's works a work of grace 
Nor yet in her illumined face 

Behold, with child-like trust, 
The smile divine which crowns his race, 

Who leads a life that's just l 



KECOGNITIOtf- 

In the sky afar, afar ? 

Where spirits dwell, 
I see a lone, lone star, 

And feel its spell ! 

The holiest star of night, 

Pensive it glows ! 
I know by its mild, mild light, 

It shares my woes. 

I see, in its saintly smile 

And radiant brow, 

A seraph that knows no guile, 

And renew my vow ! 
(174) 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 



X 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD 

A stranger in my native land, 

I none but strangers see ; 
Not one who seeks to grasp my hand, 

For none remember me ! 

And yet the hills, with laurel crowned, 
Eemain unchanged and calm ; 

And still I hear the plaintive sound, 
That ne'er has lost its charm ; 

The music of the mystic reed, 
That sighs on mountain side 

Amid the pines, where ravens breed, 
And perch in towering pride. 



(177) 



178 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

Tall pines, whose shadows fringed with light, 

Spear-like, assail the lawn ; 
Where once the world to rne was bright, 

In youth's delightful morn. 

And here once more old paths I tread, 
In meadow, grove, and glade, 

And pause 'neath elms, whose leafy head 
Still casts a grateful shade. 

Old friendly elms, still firm and true, 
Whose branches sheltered me ; 

Yet where are they, the happy few, 
Companions frank and free, 

Who shared with me, beneath these trees, 
The sports that now are o'er ; 

And where the group my fancy sees, 
The loved ones at the door, 

Who cheered the mansion stern and old, 

Ere yet its halls were trod 
By strangers, seeming strange and cold, 

Who deign me scarce a nod ! 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 179 

Although received with chilling pride, 

In this my native clime, 
I have not now a heart to chide 

The changes wrought by time. 

But still regard with tearful eye 

The shadows of the past, 
The Home of Youth, whose magic sky, 

Though dimmed, is not o'ercast. 

For I have seen beneath its roof 

Full many a happy day, 
And heard from saintly lips the proof 

Of love that lasts for aye. 

Yet never more shall I behold 

The years which now have flown, 
Whose wings were wrought with threads of gold, 

Bright as an angel's own. 

But, yielding still to impulse strong, 

That binds me in its band, 
I turn to mountains, loved so long, 

And kiss to them my hand ! 



180 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

And o'er paternal acres fair, 
That stretch beneath the sun, 

Still trace the shadows gliding there, 
And mourn what time has done ! 

And yet I greet with joy the rill, 
That flows from out the cave, 

And winds its way adown the hill, 
Singing its ancient stave. 

And bless the aged chestnut tree, 
Where oft at earliest dawn, 

I gathered wealth — then wealth to me- 
Nor treat its gifts with scorn. 

Nor shun the orchard, where, of yore, 

Beneath an autumn sky, 
I shared so oft the golden store, 

That charmed my roving eye. 

And thus, in passing o'er the lea, 

I pause at many a spot ; 
Haunts which it gives me joy to see, 

Though changed is now my lot. 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 181 

Ha ! there's the vine, the wild grape-vine, 

In which I sat and swung, 
With her, whose arm stole into mine, 

In days when both were young. 

Nor dreamed we then of happier hours, 

Nor happier have I seen ; 
For then life's path was strewn with flowers, 

And youth's bright sky serene. 

Still proud of many a scattered star, 

That shines with brilliant ray, 
There stands the lone old school-house far 

Adown the trodden way ; 

Where, armed with satchel, oft I trod, 

A wayward, heedless youth ; 
And where, unspared, the birchen rod 

Imprinted many a truth ! 

And there the church still lifts its spire, 

The pride of all the land, 
Where saints still feed its altar's fire 

With liberal heart and hand. 



182 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

Stern saints who still, with awe profound, 

Pin to the parson's sleeve 
Their faith, and in good works abound ; 

Nor doubt what they believe ! 

In yonder glen, the mountain stream 

Propels the old mill-wheel ; 
And in good faith, as still would seem, 

The miller shares the meal. 

Angling in depths to eddies wrought, 

Below the mill-dam's foam, 
How oft the dainty trout I've caught, 

And borne in triumph home. 

When Autumn, with her golden hue, 
Enriched the woodland's crown, 

How oft with fatal aim, and true, 
I've brought the squirrel down. 

Oft traced the pheasant to her glen, 

And set the subtle snare, 
In which when caught, like luckless men, 

She dangled in the air ! 



THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 183 

Though skies may lower, the fitful gleams 

Of earlier happier days, 
Still come to me, like pleasant dreams, 

Tinged with celestial rays. 

Yet 'mid this vision of the past, 

Not one, of all my race, 
Remains to cheer this lone and last 

Look at my native place ! 

And yet I love the sacred shrine 

Of olden memories dear, 
And, lingering, dream of joys once mine, 

Though but a wanderer here. 

In yonder churchyard trace the print 

Of names I honor still ; 
And from them take the warning hint, 

Which time will soon fulfill ! 

Albeit familiar friends still live, 

Who seem to bless me yet ; 
And who to me a welcome give, 

Which I can ne'er forget. 



184 THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

I mean the smiling brook that flows 

To music's silver tone, 
The rock and hill, and sweet wild-rose, 

Whose love I'm proud to own. 

Nor are they shadows dim to sight, 
Whose lips still breathe of woe ; 

But staunch old friends whose hearts are right, 
True friends to me I know. 

None truer than the hills and plains, 

The brooklet, tree, and flower, 
And birds that sing in happy strains, 

Unconscious of their power. 

For Nature and her children speak 

In language that's divine, 
And calmly teach me to be meek, 

And never to repine ! 



SONG OF THE TEMPEST. 

Cloud-born, I visit earth, 

And on my way sublime, 
I give to terror birth, 

Nor spare the sons of time ; 
But in my wrath sweep o'er the land, 
And smite my foes with giant hand. 

Oh yes ! with fearful stroke, 

I smite the forest's pride, 
Uproot the stately oak, 

And score the mountain's side, 
And dash to earth, in frenzied hour, 
The abodes of men, with fane and tower ! 

(185) 



186 SONG OF THE TEMPEST. 

O'er land and sea I sweep, 
Unchained in mad career, 

Nor list to those who weep, 
But hurl the lightning's spear ; 

And wrapt in clouds that still grow black, 

Still scatter wrecks along my track. 

And thus, with crushing stride, 

I leave a record lone, 
Of sorrow and of pride — 

Nor care my deeds to own ; 
For passion fires my giddy brain, 
Until exhaustion ends my reign. 

But still — if understood — 

I do but fill my sphere ; 
Educe from evil good, 

And mark the fruitful year ; 
Yet man distrusts the hand concealed, 
That points my path o'er flood and field ! 



MORNING. 

Like a nymph from an ocean of pearls. 

Awaking she flies to the 'hills, 
And smiles at her face and her curls, 

In the wave of the mountain rills 

But her mantle she wove from the mist, 
Ere her glittering flight had begun ; 

And the bracelet that gleams on her wrist, 
She braided from rays of the sun. 

And the diamonds that flash in her hair, 

She plucked from the stars of the night ; 

And with lips breathing health on the air, 

She kisses the flowers with delight. 

(187) 



188 MORNING. 

And the flowers, clad in purple and gold, 
Her favors return with a smile, 

And with love, all too pure to be told, 
And with heart that is guiltless of guile. 

And begemmed with the dews of the sky, 
She descends to the silvery lawn, 

And surveys, with a bright placid eye, 
The splendors that glitter at dawn. 

And she lingers till awed by her Sire, 
Whose eye, burning eye, seems to chide; 

Then hastes from his gaze to retire, 
With a blush like a beautiful bride. 

Yet returns with the dawn of each day, 
Ere her Sire reascends to his throne, 

And, delighted, still sprinkles his way 
With the jewels that flash in her zone ! 



EVER VAIN. 

Ever vain the pursuit 
After pleasures that fly 
And bequeath but a sigh, 
With a tear in our eye ; 
Ashes the fruit ! 

Ever vain the pursuit, 
Amid dreams that entrance, 
After phantoms that dance, 
After fame — a mere chance ; 
Ashes the fruit ! 

Ever vain the pursuit, 

Amid grief from the first, 

After bubbles that burst, 

After treasures accursed ; 

Ashes the fruit ! 

(189) 



V 



SONG OF THE DIME. 



Though but a dime, a simple dime, 

I run a bright career, 
And have a voice whose silvery chime, 

Like music, wins the ear. 

Where'er I go, I'm still received 
With ready grasping hand ; 

The rich, the poor, and the bereaved, 
My mission understand. 

Yet ere I can my mission prove, 
Though never seeking rest, 

The miser, with a miser's love, 
Oft locks me in his chest. 
(190) 



SONG OF THE DIME. 191 

And there, though loved, I'm doomed to wait, 

Still sighing to be free, 
Until the tyrant yields to fate, 

And heirs obtain the key ! 

In social circles, high and low, 

I have a wide, wide range, 
And still am sought, as you may know, 

By those who seek for change ! 

A changing life it is I lead, 

And though grown old and thin, 
I still remain a slave indeed, 

Nor favors hope to win. 

In ways that seem at first but small, 

Large fortunes oft I spend ; 
Amass them, too, when saving all 

I find a faithful friend. 

Yet many an orphan's heart I cheer 

With stinted loaves of bread ; 
And oft illume the widow's tear, 

In pensive silence shed. 



192 SONG OF THE DIME. 

And yet the widow, poor indeed, 
Oft casts me, as her mite, 

In aid of those who still have need 
Of gospel truth and light. 

And thus from hand to hand I go, 
And do what good I can; 

Yet much I do, in idle show. 
For woman and for man. 

Nor cease to learn from day to day, 

As I enact my part, 
How few are they, who care to weigh 

The motives of the heart! 



SHADOWS. 

In truth all things, beneath the sky, 

But shadows seem ; 
Shadows that catch the dazzled eye, 
Mere shadows swiftly gliding by, 

False as a dream ! 

And yet, though false, they often cheer 

Hours dark to me ; 
Yes, often mirrored in a tear, 
I see familiar faces dear — 

No more to be ! 

Still all are shadows, man or flower, 

Passing with time ; 

All — e'en the mountain's unsealed tower, 

That awes the earth with mystic power, 

Lone and sublime ! 
9 



(193) 



194 SHADOWS. 

And yet, of sainted loved ones meek, 

Shadows are cast 
From skies that ne'er grow chill or bleak ; 
Shadows that seem, heart-touched, to speak 

Of years now past ! 

Shadows that stalk close at my side, 

Life-like as truth ; 
Shadows in which I still confide ; 
Shadows that dance on life's dark tide 

Shadows of youth. 

Shadows of nymphs that trod the vale, 

And culled its flowers ; 
Shadows that loved the stars to hail, 
And paused to hear the brooklet's waiL 

In moon-lit hours. 

Shadows of joys flown long ago, 

With happier days ; 
Shadows of hours I ne'er shall know 
Shadows of hopes no more to glow, 

Shorn of their rays. 



SHADOWS. 195 

Shadows of memories ever blest, 

Though pensive all ; 
Shadows that come at my behest, 
With healing power to soothe my breast, 

Whate'er befall! 

All me ! how oft have shadows brought 

One message more 
From realms of bliss to souls untaught, 
Prophetic of the change that J s wrought, 

When life is o'er. 



WILD FLOWERS. 

Daughters of light, who ne'er repine, 
Though high your birth, 

'Tis yours in humble life to shine, 
Like modest worth. 

Arrayed in robes of heavenly hue, 

You come and go, 
And drink the nectar of the dew, 

Nor taste of woe. 

Inspired, and yet inspiring still, 

You seem to speak, 

And prophesy to vale and hill, 

With faith that's meek. 
C196) 



WILD FLOWERS. 197 

'Tis yours a language pure to teach, 

And share his heart 
Who seeks on earth high aims to reach, 

Ere he depart. 

And yours the whisper which, I trow, 

I hear at eve, 
And in the morning's roseate glow, 

Hear and believe. 

Believe the gospel of your lips, 

Spoken to man; 
Nor heed the coming frost that nips 

Each hope and plan. 

For if my life on earth be true, 

I yet, on high, 
Shall wear a glorious robe like you, 

And never die ! 



CLASSIC HALLS. 

Lovely the vale, and dear its name, 

Where wisdom dwells 
In Classic Halls well known to fame, 

And chapel bells 
Proclaim the hours with meaning knells. 

And here, how blest to greet once more 

Classmates, who trod 
These ancient Halls with me of yore, 

The lawn's green sod, 
And talk of those now gone to God ! 

And still recall life's golden hours, 

And earlier aim, 
And trace old paths through glens of flowers, 

Classic in name, 

And climb the mountains scarred with flame ! 
(198) 



CLASSIC HALLS. 199 

And thus bring back in bright review 

The hallowed past, 
And pleasant dreams of youth renew, 

Ere hopes, o'ercast, 
Had lost their charms — lost in the vast! 

Here many a lad has nobly striven 

Through cloistered years, 
And dreamed of fame that's never given, 

Except with tears, 
And patient toil, and spectral fears. 

Alas ! how oft the aspirant's dreams 

Are born to die, 
When coming years have quenched the beams 

In youth's bright sky, 
And life is viewed with sober eye ! — 

Yet from these Halls have men of worth, 

Earnest and strong, 
Gone forth to cheer the ends of earth, 

Eebuking wrong, 
In tones which Heaven will still prolong ! 



SONG OF THE SHELL. 

I was born of the sea, 

And was rocked in its wave. 
And its child still would be, 

Though its billows may rave ! 

For I love to recline 

On the sands of its shore, 

"Where its smile is divine, 
And terrific its roar ! 

With a lip that is red 
And as fresh as the dew, 

I repeat what is said 
By the ocean to you ! 



(200) 



SONG OP THE SHELL. 201 

And I bear to the land, 

In my bosom, a pearl ; 
A bequest, from the strand, 

To a gay queenly girl 1 



Like a gem on her breast, 
There it gleams in its pride 

On a sea ne'er at rest — 
Still a pearl of the tide ! 



I was born of the sea, 

And was rocked in its wave, 
And its child still would be, 

Though its billows may rave I 



LONG AGO. 

'Mid pleasant visions gliding dim 

Along the shore, 
Where still resounds life's ocean hymn 

With solemn roar, 
Methinks I see forms tall and slim, 

Angels you know, 
Who graced the earth, earth's seraphim, 

Long, long ago ! 

And in their eyes as sparkling still, 

As in the hours 
When young and gay we climbed the hill, 

And gathered flowers, 
I hail but love and kind good will, 

And thoughts that glow, 
And in my veins still feel the thrill 

Felt long ago ! 



(202) 



LONG AGO. 203 

And, dreaming, hear but whispers sweet, 

From lips unstained, 
The music of the heart's quick beat, 

That's never feigned ; 
And catch a glimpse of twinkling feet 

'Neath robes of snow, 
Visions that haunted hall and street, 

Long, long ago. 

Oh, is there not a mystic balm, 

In memories old ; 
In hopes, which still our fears disarm, 

Hopes manifold ; 
And in the ever-lingering charm 

Of that sweet woe, 
Which grew to love, sincere and calm, 

Long, long ago ! 



THE AUTUMN LEAF. 

In you, frail leaf, 
The lone and last on yonder tree, 
Methinks, revealed, I clearly see 
The life that's pure — its harmony, 

And golden sheaf! 

And though you wear 
A pensive look, I still can trace 
A saintly simile upon your face, 
Betokening faith — a work of grace, 

That cheers despair ! 

To life's last bound, 
Though tremulous has been your flight, 
Still you have won a crown that's bright, 
And, clad in gems, oft danced at night 

A giddy round ! 



(204) 



THE AUTUMN LEAF. 205 

Danced to the sigh 
Of zephyr's lute, 'mid summer air ; 
Nor dreamed that you were doomed to share 
A frosty kiss — so calm and fair 

Appeared the sky ! 

But now grown old, 
'Tis yours to fall, as fell your peers, 
And mingle with the dust of seers ; 
Yet live again, and in far years 

New charms unfold ! 

'Twas but the breath 
Of vernal hours, that quickened you ; 
'Tis but a breath, divine and true, 
That quickens man, and will renew 

His life in death ! 



INSCRUTABLE. 

Old Ocean, source of mystic power, 

I love thy solemn hymn, 
The hallowed murmurs of thy lip, 

And saddened memories dim; 
Yet shrink to meet thy terrors grim ! 

Nor marvel that thine own dark waves 

Refuse to give thee rest; 
For thine are dark mysterious deeds, 

Born of a troubled breast ; 
Still unatoned and unconfessed ! 

And yet, methinks, kind sympathies 
With human hearts are thine ; 

A wish to soothe the wail of grief, 

The grief that 's ever mine, 

For her whose form thy depths enshrine ! 
(206) 



THE ZEPHYR. 

Born of the air, 
Say, whither, whither dost thou glide, 
With breath of balm on azure tide, 

Viewless, yet fair? 

O'er hill and dale 
'T is thine to stray, and share the smile 
Of stars and flowers, and without guile 

Thyself regale! 

At summer eve, 
On gentle wing that fans my brow, 
Why stoop, or, blandly whispering now, 

Ask why I grieve ; 

(207) 



208 THE ZEPHYR. 

Grieve for the blest, 
The dearly-loved one, now no more, 
To whom an angel oped the door, 

In realms of rest ! 

Yet when I hear 
The loving whisper of thy lute, 
I think it hers, whose lip is mute, 

And hope and fear. 

And though in vain, 
Still wait to hear one whisper more, 
And still at Beauty's shrine adore, 

Nor would refrain. 

Her spirit bright, 
And seraph-like, looks down from heaven, 
While I look up, with soul unshriven, 

And hail the light ! 



ASPIRATION. 

Be mine a faith and hope, whose tendrils twine 

With buds and blossoms in a land divine, 

Where spring but flowers, that drink the genial dew. 

And greet the sainted soul with welcome true ; 

Perennial flowers, whose pensive grace, untold, 

Proclaims the power of love that 's manifold ; 

The love that flows from out the central heart 

Of Life unseen, yet flowing, doth impart 

To life that 's seen, its own diviner charm 

Of moral beauty, with its healing balm; 

Perennial flowers, that bloom in heavenly light, 

And, ever fragrant, climb from height to height, 

Where, free to all, a viewless hand unbars 

The gate that leads to mansions built of stars ! 

(209) 



WHY DESPAIR? 

She 's fair as summer skics ; 

Her eyes are blue; 
It may — or not — be wise 

For one like you 
To look into their deep love-light, 
So magical, yet calm and bright ! 

And yet she waits, I know, 

Waits to be blest; 
Nursing a tender woe 

Within her breast; 
A woe that sheds its pensive hue 
Upon her brow — perhaps for you ! 



(210) 



WHY DESPAIR? 211 

Yet 'tis not woe that speaks 

Thus in her eye, 
And in her mantling cheeks, 

And in her sigh; 
'T is love that 's pure as sinless star 
New born, in radiant depths afar ! 

She wears a sunny curl, 

Her smile is bland ; 
And his the "priceless pearl," 

Who gains her hand, 
And wins her love, of heavenly birth, 
And blends his life with hers on earth ! 



CAREER OF THE CLOUD. 

In the garb of a soft, silken mist, 

I ascend to the brow 
Of the mountain, and trust to my wings, 

When expanded as now. 

And I darken the sky with a frown, 

That is fearful and grim; 
And encircled with fire flashing wild, 

Often mutter a hymn — 

With a harmony solemn and loud, 
And with power that appalls, 

As it rolls its dread echoes afar 
Through the sky's vaulted halls I 



(212) 



CAREER OF THE CLOUD. 213 

Yet relenting, I cheer the parched earth, 

And refresh it with showers, 
And awake thrills of joy in the breast 

Of the grief-stricken flowers. 

Thus to thee, son of earth, oft I speak, 

In a voice that 's divine ; 
Yet am naught but a shadow that 's fleet, 

Doomed to vanish like thine ! 

Though away like thy shadow I pass, 

Still I feel a desire 
To repose in the smiles of the sun, 

Clad in robes fringed with fire. 

But in sorrow return to the earth, 

In whose clime I was born ; 
And in silence await the calm light 

Of the beautiful morn ! 



HEAVEN ON EARTH. 

There 's a heaven on earth, 

A heaven that's mine, 
In the gift of her heart, 

Whose love is divine! 

There 's a light in her eye, 

That wins without art; 
And there 's grace in her step, 

And joy in her heart! 

When the heart blends with heart, 

Confiding and true, 
Then on earth there 's a heaven, 

With joys ever new! 



(214) 



THE LIFE OF LIFE. 

Go forth, deep -lost in thought, 

Where none intrude, 
And let thy faith be wrought 

In solitude j 
Truth waits — yet must be sought-. 

Yes, with thyself commune, 

And soft as lute, 
Thy heartstrings thus attune 

To love that's mute, 
And vain aspirings prune. 

'T is only love — complete — 

That will endure, 
When earth-life, frail and fleet, 

And hopes, not sure, 
Depart — pure love, I weet — 



(215 ) 



216 THE LIFE OP LIFE. 

The sentiment that 's shrined 

Deep in the heart; 
The wealth of soul and mind; 

That better part 
Of man — not yet defined. 

The life of life upright — 

God-like endeavor; 
The star that crowns the night \ 

The long Forever, 
That 's lost in calm delight t 



NOTES, 



10 



NOTES. 

Note 1. Page 9 — Mount Vernon. 
Breathes of the past, 'tis conseerated ground. 

Mount Vernon, consecrated as the Home of Washington, is pleasant- 
ly situated in the County of Fairfax, Virginia, on the South bank of 
the Potomac, and has an elevation of 200 feet above the surface of the 
river, which at this point is two miles wide. 

The old Family' Mansion, which crowns the hill, was originally built 
by Washington's uncle, who gave it the name of " Mount Vernon," in 
honor of Admiral Vernon, under whom he had served in the British 
navy. 

Note 2. Page 10. 

Though but a lowly shrine. 

The object of the most intense interest to visitors at Mount Vernon 
is, of course, the " Tomb of Washington." It is situated in a lovely 
retreat on the hill-side, and though not seen from the river, is sudden- 
ly disclosed to view as you ascend the hill from the landing. 

This retired, yet hallowed spot, is sprinkled with wild flowers, and 

(219) 



220 NOTES. 

shaded by the dark cedar and the stately oak, and was selected, it is said, 
by Washington himself, for the purpose to which it has been appropri- 
ated. The Tomb is of moderate dimensions and of plain exterior, con- 
structed of brick, with an iron door of open work, through which you 
can see, in the interior, two marble sarcophagi, arranged side by side, 
one of which contains the remains of George Washington, and the 
other those of Martha, his wife. 

Note 3. Page 10. 

But turn where stands the hall, 
In which the Chieftain dwelt of yore. 

The Mount Vernon estate still remains much as it was in the days of 
Washington. With a view to its preservation, it has recently been pur- 
chased by an Association. It should belong to the Nation. 

Note 4. Page 15. 

Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight. 

Mr. Sparks, in his Life of Washington, remarks in reference to the 
success of the American arms at the Battle of Trenton, that " the de- 
spondency which had weighed heavily on the minds of the people, was 
dispelled as by a charm, the martial spirit revived, and a new animation 
infused into the public counsels." 

Note 5. Page 16. 

But now, from proffered, kingly crown, 
With scorn he turned away. 

A short time before the American army was disbanded, at the close 
of the Revolution, a Colonel in the service, " of a highly respectable 
character, and somewhat advanced in age," as the agent of those en- 
gaged in the scheme, communicated to General Washington a very 
flattering proposal to permit himself to be made King over the Ameri- 
can people ; to which the General indignantly replied in the following 
characteristic letter, as noble and patriotic in sentiment as it is beauti- 
ful in style : 



NOTES. 221 

"Newburg, 22 May, 1782, 
" Sir : 

" With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with 
attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, 
Sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painful 
sensations than your information of there being such ideas existing iu 
the army, as you have expressed, and which I must view with abhor 
once, and reprehend with severity. For the present, the communication 
of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agitation of tny 
matter shall make a disclosure necessary. 

" I am at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given 
encouragement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest 
mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the 
knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your 
schemes are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my own 
feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more sincere wish to see 
ample justice done to the army than I do ; and as far as my power and 
influence, in a constitutional way, extend, they shall be employed to the 
utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there be any occasion. Let 
me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern 
for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts 
from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself, or any one 
else, a sentiment of the like nature. 

"I am, Sir, &c, 

" GEORGE WASHINGTON." 

Note 6. Page 17. 

How vaia the lofty tower. 

Alluding to the " Washington Monument," in the city of Washing- 
ton. 

Note 7. Page 133 — The Land op Freedom. 

The Rock, on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid. 

Dr. Thacher, in his "History of the Town of Plymouth," states that 
" The Mayflower having arrived in the harbor from Cape Cod, Mary 
Chilton entered the first landing boat, and looking forward, exclaimed, 
' I will be the first to step on that Rock.' Accordingly, when the boat 
approached, Mary Chilton was permitted to be the first from the boat 
who appeared on the Rock." 



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